


Rebel Spirit

by Ursula



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, X-file
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-02
Updated: 2005-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-20 09:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11333136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursula/pseuds/Ursula
Summary: Mulder and Krycek are investigating a case of slain gay bikers when Agent Krycek undergoes interesting behavioral changes.





	Rebel Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Rebel Spirit

### Rebel Spirit

#### by Ursula

  


Title: Rebel Spirit  
Author/Pseudonym: Ursula  
Fandom: X-Files  
Pairing: Mulder/Skinner/Krycek  
Rating: Adult Slash  
Status: Finished   
Date Posted:  
Archive: UXFS, DIB, Gossamer, FONXL, WWOMB E-mail address for feedback: Fan4Richie or Classification: Slash alternate time line Fuq canon Series/Sequel: Is this story part of a series: Stand Alone Disclaimers: No profit, fan fiction for fun. X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter and whoever else owns current rights. Additional original characters were created by the writer. Notes: Written for the motorcycle theme first UXFS web zine Warnings: Slash  
Time Frame: Season two 

It wasn't Mulder's favorite brand of investigation, but it was an interesting case... 

The third murder had kicked it into our laps as it was in Virginia. The two others had been in Maryland. The Richmond case was a hot potato as the victim had been the editor of radical gay rights magazine. The gay community all over the nation was in mourning and outraged, believing that the case was not being given enough attention because of the victim's sexuality. That was hardly the situation. The real reason why the case was unsolved was that we didn't have a clue. 

When you find yourself up a blind alley, when logic has nothing to go on, why not go for a wild card? 

There was no card wilder than Mulder. 

OooOooO 

"What did we do now?" I asked as Alex sat down next to me in Skinner's briefing room. 

"Why don't you tell me?" Skinner shot back. He dropped a file between my new partner and me. 

I flipped it open and winced as I saw the graphic photograph. The naked corpse was male...I assumed only because what remained of the torso was hairy and the body was taller than most women are. Multiple knife wounds had obliterated his mouth, leaving a gaping hole. The upper chest was mangled; bone showing through the bloody wreck. The groin...ah God, there was a living man who wouldn't feel sick to look at that ruin of flesh and bone. The killer had been strong and he had struck with incredible force 

The next picture confirmed what I had thought when I saw the first one. It was the back of the corpse. The ass was destroyed ...the photograph was good enough to show the yellow of fat against the brownish red of flesh in the early stages of decay. I heard Alex clearing his throat and knew if I glanced his way that he would have averted his eyes from the photographed carnage. 

"The killer targeted every sexual area of the man's body, mouth, nipples, anus, genitals," I said. "Was the victim gay?" 

"His name was Chev Stratton," Skinner replied. 

"Editor of Stones from the Wall, one of the best known gay right magazines in the United States," I said. 

"It's on line now too," Alex chirped. He blushed when I looked at him and shifted in his seat. 

Uh huh, you just try to keep your reading broad, don't you, Alex? I thought. 

I continued to page through the file. Gradually Alex's curiosity overcame his nausea. He moved closer to me to study the file. I could feel the warmth of his thigh against mine as he was nearly sitting in my chair. Despite this distraction, I turned my attention back to the file where it belonged. 

"Three murders," Alex said. 

Something was at the back of my mind...a case that violent crimes had closed as unsolved before I was assigned. I wanted to review it before I discussed it with anyone. "All the victims rode motorcycles and all of the victims were gay?" 

"Tom Matthews wasn't known to be gay, but we haven't checked into his background. However he was found in a location well known as a gay lover's lane," Skinner said. 

"Kind of takes the romance out of that stroll in the moonlight," I said. 

Alex glared at me. He plucked out the case we hadn't discussed yet, "Angelo DiBenedetto," Alex read. "Lived with his mother in Upper Marlboro. He wasn't in the closet. I wonder if he knew Stratton?" 

"I doubt it," I said. "High school drop out...not in the same intellectual class as our radical editor." 

"He was a nice looking guy," Alex said. 

No, Angelo was beautiful. I shook my head as I studied the picture. Black hair, olive skin, cute nose, sweet plump lips that seemed to beg to be kissed. I guess I was wrong about my comment; I wouldn't have worried about his high school grades if I had been lucky to meet him in a gay bar. "He worked in a motorcycle shop," I said. "What brand of motorcycles did the other victims ride?" 

"Not rice burners, I bet," Alex commented as he dug for the information. "Indians, they all rode Indians." 

"Okay, that's another connection," I said, pretending I knew what Alex meant by 'a rice burner'. "Alex, let's make DiBenedetto our first priority. The bike shop might have been one place our killer obtained information to decide on his victims." 

"Should see if we can get subscription information from Stones from the Wall too," Alex added. "The killer might be using the subscription list to select victims. Do you want me to run a search for other similar cases?" 

"Good thinking, Junior," I said, mostly because I liked the way Alex's eyes flashed when I called him that. I said, "You check the subscription list; I'll check to see if there are any other cases that seem to be similar. I know we had the unsolved cases in Rosaryville. I'm going to pull those cases up so we can have a look." 

I liked the way Alex was smiling at me. I tell myself that I don't care what my fellow agents think. Scully was the only one whose opinion mattered. Yet I have to admit that Alex's respect and his eagerness to work with me meant more than they should to me. 

OooOooO 

The bike shop was named, "Tinman's". Its main line was repair and parts for classic Indians. There were a couple of restored classics and a row of the modern Indians for sale. Tinner, the guy who ran the shop, had just finished interviewing a candidate for Angelo DiBenedetto's replacement. He grunted sourly as he looked from Alex to me. 

Tinman was lean except for a beer punch. He wore a black tee shirt with a graphic of an Indian on a motorcycle, a black leather vest, and black jeans to match. His salt and pepper hair was starting to thin in front, but the back was long, caught in a greasy ponytail. Tattoos marked his knuckles and ran from his wrist up to the sleeve of his shirt. 

"You the cops?" the man asked. 

"We're federal agents," I said, not offering a handshake after taking a look at the man's oil-stained hands. Junior had drifted off and was examining a big black bike with red highlights. His lips were parted and his eyes were glazed as if he was being seduced. I think I felt jealous. 

"Alex, front and center," I said, fighting the urge to snap my fingers. 

"Great bike, that Chief," Alex said. 

"Yeah, it's a good one," the shop owner said. "You interested in one?" 

"Yes," Alex said. He might have continued, but I froze his words with a steely gaze that I had learned from AD Skinner. 

"I'm Agent Mulder and this is Agent Krycek," I said. "We're here about Angelo DiBenedetto. You own this place?" 

Thin shoulders shrugged. "As good as." 

"Which means?" I demanded. 

"I manage it for the creep who has the title. He hasn't set foot in this shop since he inherited from Big Jim Pulaski," Tinner said. "Shop is as good as mine. I'm the one that hired Angel, taught him everything he knew about bikes. I loved that kid. If I knew who killed him..." 

"So you were close to Angelo?" I said. 

"Not the way you're thinking," Tinner said. "I was like a father to him. I don't think it was someone he knew... people loved Angel. The guys he dated adored him and didn't mind sharing." 

"Funny how murder victims are always people everyone loved," I remarked. 

"That might be sound like something everyone says," Tinner said, "but it's the truth. Angel was someone who sparkled. He made life better." 

The grief I heard seemed real, but then your chances of being killed by someone you loved were a lot higher than that of being killed by a stranger. That's why I figured my odds were down for being a murder victim unless I was on the job. "Can you give us some names of people that Angelo...Angel dated?" I asked. 

"A few," Tinner said. "There were a lot of guys. Angel was popular." 

"We'd like to see his work area," I said. 

"Sure," Tinner said, nodding to a bulky co-worker who had just entered from the garage. "Rusty, can you watch the till for a while?" 

"Can't work the till, boss," the red haired behemoth said, scratching his chin under the thick curly beard he wore. 

"That's okay," Tinner replied. "Just yell for me if a sale comes up." 

"Rusty is a great mechanic," Tinner said, "But he has a phobia about computers. He won't even try to ring up a sale since I let Angel talk me into that computer system. Shit...reminds me. Unless I find someone who knows bikes and computers, from now on I got to shell out for a computer tech. I'd really like to get the guy who killed Angel!" 

It was pretty persuasive. Tinner could be a good actor, but I recognized the tone of voice of a boss facing a budget crisis. I don't think he killed his goose that laid the golden eggs. 

Just as we reached Angel's desk, Rusty bellowed, "Boss, sale!" 

"Gotta go," Tinner said. "The one with the crystal angels is Angel's desk. Everyone gave him those." 

The back office boasted two desks, piles of inventory, a bookcase full of manuals, and a couple of laptops. Angel's desk boasted several crystal angel statues. Alex went through one drawer as I searched the other. "Bingo on the Stones from the Wall's subscription," Alex said, holding up a magazine with a good-looking guy featured on it. Too bad the naked torso was pierced with arrows. "Angel's name is on the label, this address. Guess he didn't want it to go to his house even if his Mom knew he was gay." 

"Yeah," I said, as I flipped through phone messages. A lot of the messages were work related, but not all. Some were obviously from boyfriends. 

I sorted through the messages and picked out any that seemed ambiguous. We would trace the numbers back at the Hoover and see if any of them led anywhere interesting. 

"I want to check his e-mail too," I said, thinking that we would need to bring the laptop back. 

Surprisingly, Alex moved into Angel's chair and managed to find the passwords without much effort. He moved over to let me take the chair without my asking. I really like this kid. 

From the history, Angel surfed a few gay porn sites when he was bored and answered private e-mail messages on work time. No big surprise there. 

"Here's one," I said, pointing at an e-mail that invited Angel to meet him down by Chews Lake. By the date, it was sent only hours before Angel had been killed. 

"Redhot21@geocities," Alex said. "There are quite a few messages from him. Looks like he was a steady date." 

"Yeah, first name was Mike," I said. "And here's several phone messages from a Mike Riley. Could be the same guy." 

"It can't be that easy," Alex replied, "But I'll check and see if he turns up on any of the other victim's contact lists." 

We finished our search and had Tinner sign for the materials we removed from Angel's desk. 

"You going to see his Mom?" Tinner asked. 

"Yes," I answered. 

"You be nice to her," Tinner said. "She's a good woman." 

OooOooO 

Mia DiBenedetto didn't look old enough to have a twenty- two-year son. She was lovely; you could tell where Angel inherited his looks. She had a face like a Greek statue's, Angel didn't have her nose, but he had her fine bone structure and her mobile, well-shaped mouth with its heart shaped upper lip. She was slim and tall, a beautiful lady. 

Angel's mother's eyes were red and dark circles were barely disguised with makeup. She said, "I am very glad to see you. Revenge won't bring back my son, but I'm Italian. I need to know his killer dies for taking my son from me." 

We sat in her sunny living room. It faced a garden that even now in late summer bloomed with myriad flowers. 

"Angel loved my flowers," Mrs. DiBenedetto said. "When he was a little boy, he sat in the window box and watched the birds for hours. I don't mean to imply that he wasn't a normal boy. He was good at sports and bikes...he always had a passion for them. He adored them. The Indian, his Indian, belonged to my husband, Angel's father. He died in Vietnam." 

"Do you know a man named Mike Reilly?" I asked. 

"Why, yes," Mrs. DiBenedetto replied. "He was a good friend to my son. I always hoped..." She blushed and continued, "That he would be the one that would make my son settle down. Mike is a darling. He and his little boy were just here yesterday, trying to cheer me up. You don't think that Mike had something to do with it?" 

"I don't know," I said. "I'd like to talk to him." 

Wordlessly, Mrs. DiBenedetto gave me Mike Reilly's address. 

We searched Angel's room, finding nothing that hinted he was being threatened or that any of his lovers were angry with him. Mrs. DiBenedetto let us into the big garage, handing us the keys to it. 

The garage housed Angel's Indian Scout, another big black bike. Alex again was drawn to it, running his hands over the smooth leather seat, squatting to gaze into the mysteries of the engine. 

"You like motorcycles?" I asked, stating the obvious. "You ride?" 

I was intrigued by the idea of my apparently straight-laced partner riding one of these symbols of rebellion. 

"Not for a long time," Alex said. "I loved riding motorcycles when I was a kid." 

"I can't see you as a biker type," I said. 

"I wasn't a biker," Alex said. "I had a friend who had bikes. He let me ride one of his. It was one of the few enjoyable memories of my childhood." 

That was something I wanted to hear about. Alex was not exactly forthcoming about his past. I knew from the files that he attended military school before joining the police force and later applying to the academy. I knew he didn't much like his father. The guy called him at the office one time and Alex hung up with an expletive. That was about the total of my knowledge about my partner, other than the fact that he drank a lot of coke and loved to eat any kind of food from haute cuisine to a burger from McDonalds.Oh, and that he had no taste in clothing. 

Apparently, that was all Alex wanted to say. He tore his attention from the bike and helped me finish searching the garage. We didn't find much of interest. A few pictures of Angel with boyfriends, some of them would have been great blackmail material if Angel hadn't already been out. 

"Let's go talk to Mike Reilly," I said. 

"All right," Alex said, one more look at the Indian as we locked the doors. 

OooOooO 

I didn't like Reilly for as the perpetrator either and he had an alibi that showed he was out of town when Angel was killed. 

Reilly was good looking too. Not in Angel's class, but a handsome man with an all American boy kind of attractiveness. He was seeing his little boy off when we arrived. He waved goodbye to the two women in the car and to his very cute kid. 

"One of them your ex?" I asked. 

Mike laughed at me and said, "Not hardly, Jayne has always been one of my closest friends. We decided to have a kid together since we both wanted one. We share custody. You must be here about Angel. Mia told me you were coming. That's why I had Jayne pick up Sam early." 

"I was out of town when Angel was killed," Mike said. "If I hadn't been, he might be still alive." 

"You think he would have been with you?" I said. 

"Yes, we spent a lot of weekends together. Angel didn't believe in commitments, but I was working on it anyway. I might have reeled him in if he hadn't been killed," Mike said. 

"What about this e-mail?" I asked, showing him the print out. 

"That's my e-mail, but I didn't write it," Mike said. "Did you track the IP address?" 

"Not yet," I said. 

"That's what I do," Mike said. "I write programs and give advice to companies on Internet security. I can track the person who used my address. Shit, I teach security and I still managed to get my e-mail spoofed." 

"Come in," Mike said. 

Mike's house was minimal care. I could see a few forgotten toys in the place. There was a picture of Angel and him on one bookshelf. 

OooOooO 

After our preliminary questions, we settled in the living room, Mike on the couch, Alex restlessly roaming around and me across from Mike in the armchair. 

"Other men?" Mike said. "Yeah, I know some of them. We're pretty civilized around here. Even if I wanted my thing with Angel to be exclusive, that didn't mean I had to beat my chest around my rivals. I was the one he always came back to. Most of the rest, he would date once or twice and move on. They would want more, but I was the only one he dated for more than a few weeks. Despite that, I doubt you can find a lover who regrets being with him. Angel was incredible...so alive, so happy." 

Covering his face, Mike wept. Alex brought him a handful of tissues. I waited for him to calm down, looking away from his grief even though I understood all too well what it felt to lose someone who was young and should have lived. 

"Thanks," Mike said to Alex, his soulful brown eyes looking into my partner's eyes for little too long. "Thank you, Agent Krycek." 

"No problem," Alex replied, gripping Mike's shoulder sweetly. 

"Alex," I said, "I think we can move on. We still have the other two killings to investigate." 

My partner followed me out, face showing his empathy with Mike Reilly. 

When we were safely in the car, Alex said, "Reilly didn't do it." 

"Gee, Alex, I didn't know you were psychic," I remarked. "That could save us a great deal of trouble on this case if you can tell me the killer now." 

"I just meant that he showed such genuine feeling," Alex explained. 

"So maybe he did it and now he regrets the loss of a great piece of ass," I shot back. 

Alex muttered something and I said, "I didn't quite catch that, Agent Krycek." 

"I said, don't be such an asshole," Alex said. 

"Why, Agent Krycek, I do believe that you have promise," I teased. "Here, I thought you were always the good polite little junior agent." 

Alex's lips tightened and he looked away. He was genuinely pissed off. I like it. We were getting real now. Somehow these occasional disagreements made me trust Alex more. 

OooOooO 

Richmond was a mess. It took us over four hours to get there, almost twice the time it should have taken according to Map Quest. Alex was bitchy because we hadn't stopped for food and because there hadn't been a place to switch over so he ended up driving the entire tedious distance. 

"If I had a motorcycle, I could have driven right around that traffic jam," Alex remarked. 

"With me clinging to your black leather suit jacket?" I asked. 

"Yeah, maybe," Alex said. He pulled into the parked space by police headquarters so we could meet with the detectives who were assigned the case. 

Detective Putnam was a slightly pudgy fellow on the high side of fifty. He has a round face, a receding hairline, and a lot of frown lines. His face was ruddy. I didn't think his high color was the result of exercise. He had the manner of someone bound to have high blood pressure. He was irritable and impatient, a scowling man whose mouth was surrounded by deep lines. 

"You're too late," Putnam said. 

"Well, yes, we were caught in a traffic jam," I explained. 

"You don't get me," Putnam said. "Case is solved. We have the killer in custody. Chev Stratton's former lover, Lewis Sheldon. Found the weapon at his place in his freezer. Plenty of motive...nasty breakup...guy made threats. We nailed him." 

"Since we drove all the way down here," I said. "Could we examine the case file? Interview your suspect? We have two other murders to solve." 

"I never bought into this serial killer crap," Putnam said. "It's just media hype. Everyone's got an MO, everyone's got a profile. Some murders are plain ordinary killings with plain ordinary murderers." 

"But I still have two other murders to solve," I repeated. 

"Yeah, you can poke around, but I'm meeting with the press in half an hour," Putnam said. "I'm going to enjoy ramming this down their throats. They've been running wild with all this gay bashing shit, making accusations against the department that we screwed up at the beginning of the case." 

"Thank you," I said, knowing for once that less said was better. Alex followed me into a small conference room and moments later, we were deep into the file. 

"They did mess up the crime scene," I said. 

"Where do you see that?" Alex said. 

"Picture sequence," I replied. "Look at pictures five and six. They weren't taken seconds or even moments apart. Look at the shadows in the pictures. They were taken at a different time of day or even a different day. Picture six is the one with the supposed murder instrument. 

"How can you tell that," Alex asked, staring at the pictures. 

"Light differences," I said. 

Alex looked cute when he was studying something. His nose scrunched and he had a tiny v-shaped frown right above his nose. He shook his head after a moment and said, "I hate it when you bullshit me, Mulder." 

Trouble was I wasn't this time. I sighed and said, "Believe me, they took out some of the frames and replaced them with others." 

"If you say so, Mulder," Alex said. 

The trouble is with most people, even a trained eye such as Alex's, is that even as the eye leaves one scene to look at the next, they forget details from the first. I didn't have that problem. I had near perfect visual memory. It was a freak talent, one that amused my fellow student at Oxford and stood me well in the violent crimes division. 

I stood up and said, "Let's interview Putnam's suspect." 

OooOooO 

Lewis Sheldon certainly acted the part of a madman. He was screaming when we entered the interrogation room and trying to fight his way free of the restraints. 

"You fuckers," Sheldon yelled. "You lousy bigoted sons of bitches!" 

There was only room for one of us to sit. I sat; Alex leaned on my chair, leaned close. 

"Give us a chance," Alex said, his voice velvet seduction. "We may not be bigoted. We might understand." 

Oh... 

Well, that was an angle I hadn't thought about...implying Alex and I might have more sympathy because we were gay. 

I glanced up at Alex, letting him see a faint lift of my brow, letting him know I would play along. 

"Putnam thought I was it from the first," Sheldon explained. "Yeah, I had some fights with Chev, but I would never have killed him, no matter what I may have said when we broke up. I loved Chev and, besides that, he was a leader. He was one of the guys who protect the rights of all of us." 

"Why is Putnam so sure that it was you?" I asked. 

"There was some of his blood at my place," Sheldon answered. "I admit it. There was, but it was that last fight we had. We really got into it and I punched him in the face. He fell down, hit his head, and bled all over the place. I drove him to the hospital for stitches...he used false ID because he didn't want media involved." 

"I can see why you broke up," I said. 

"It wasn't just me," Sheldon said. "Chev usually started it. He had a hot temper and he was good with his fists. He wasn't a battered gay man. He was a guy who was in a fight with his lover." 

"It's still domestic violence," Alex argued. 

Ah, yes, recent seminar on that. Alex attended and took copious notes...signed for me too after I bribed him with dinner. 

"I guess so," Sheldon said, "I was trying to tell you that there was nothing weak about Chev. He was strong, he was proud, and maybe that's why he was killed." 

"You think someone killed him for his beliefs?" I asked. 

"Yes," Sheldon said. "Chev was always saying that the straight establishment had it in for him. He said the FBI spied on him." 

I winced and wondered how long it would be before Sheldon noticed we didn't have police badges. 

"We're from the FBI," Alex said. 

I stomped on his foot, but he wouldn't shut up. "We have similar cases," Alex added. "If we prove that Chev Stratton was killed by the same person as the other two, then you would be cleared." 

"How can I help?" Sheldon said. 

"Let's go over everything you know about Chev Stratton," I said. 

"That's going to take time," Sheldon said. 

"We'll make time," I said. 

Well, we made time until Putnam threw our asses out of the office. I was headed back in the door when Alex put a hand on my shoulder and drew me out of my rage. 

"Let's move on," Alex said. "Go check out these leads that Sheldon gave us." 

He was right about not wasting energy on a crooked police detective, but I still didn't like having to accept Putnam's attitude. I couldn't wait to prove 

"We'll be back," I said. 

OooOooO 

Nothing we found backed up Sheldon's claims that Stratton was being watched by anyone. He had occasionally been known to go camping in the James River Park with lovers. No one knew who he had gone with this last time, if anyone. His friends said that Chev sometimes camped alone, restoring his energy for the battles ahead. In Sheldon's favor, none of their friends thought he did it. They were universal in their acute dislike for Putnam, who they said was a homophobe of major proportions. 

I drove back to Washington. Alex was half asleep at my side. He sleep- walked into his small apartment. I was keeping the car for once. I meant to go have Frohike do some advanced hacking, see if anyone had been stalking Chev. I didn't tell Alex that. I hadn't introduced him to the Gunmen yet. That seemed so...well, it was almost like bringing your date home to meet your parents. It would have been saying Alex was truly Scully's replacement. 

Walking Alex up, I paused in the doorway and looked inside. The place made my apartment look like a mansion. I said, "Gawd, Alex, you have to take some time to look for a better place." 

"Yeah, I know," Alex replied. "I didn't expect to be in this apartment for long. Didn't figure you would let them assign me as your partner." 

"I'm not such an ogre," I said. I stood there looking at Alex, aware of my attraction and wishing I could act on it. I felt like a guy on a first date, wondering if he was allowed to kiss. Alex yawned and broke the spell... 

What was I thinking? I was getting in deeper. I was sailing in treacherous waters. 

OooOooO 

My favorite pen fell from my pocket and rolled under my car. Shit! 

Squatting, I reached for it but it was beyond the length of my arm in this position. I looked around and no one was there to witness this undignified position. I flopped down and fished for the pen. I almost had it when I heard someone enter the garage. 

A car pulled in a moment later. 

This was ridiculous. It was after normal work hours. I knew Mulder and Krycek were still at work, but most of the building had gone home. I didn't expect to be caught lying on the garage floor by anyone. I had looked in on them and told them to go home a few minutes ago, but Mulder seldom listened to me. 

The car was idling. I heard a familiar voice, the Smoking Man. He said, "Alex, get in." 

"I can't. Mulder will be down any second," Krycek said. 

I didn't want to hear this. I didn't want to know this. 

"We have to meet," the Smoking Man said. "You've been avoiding me." 

"No, I haven't. We have a big case," Alex said, sounding young and frightened, but also angry. "You're going to blow my cover." 

"Alex, report to me at my apartment," the Smoking Man said. 

"Yeah," Alex said. "I'll be there." 

"You better be," the Smoking Man said. 

The car drove away and I heard Alex mutter, "Fucker. Some how, some day, I'm going to get you." 

I was lying there on the garage floor, wondering whether I should show myself and confront him. 

No. Here was Mulder. 

"Hey, Alex, what's wrong? You look like your best friend died," Mulder said. 

"No, I'm okay, just tired," Alex said. "About dinner, I'm going to have to skip it. I'll drop you off and..." 

"About that," Mulder said. 

Car doors slammed and I didn't hear the rest of the conversation. 

I finally was able to get off the floor, my pen rescued and my spirits much lower now. 

When I first met Alex Krycek, I checked out his background as thoroughly as Agent Mulder had. I had more reason than Mulder. Mulder was merely paranoid. I knew Krycek was dirty. I just wanted to know how dirty. 

His history intrigued me by its very blandness. According to his records, he was an all American kid, straight shooter, the kind of young man of whom any mother would be proud. He was an A student, born to a father who was a career army officer and a mother who was a schoolteacher. He had excelled at sports, taken speech, ran successfully for student council, and had gone to college on academic scholarships. 

So why was this exemplary young guy working for slime like the man who stank up my office on a regular basis? I wasn't sure who the asshole was. I was told to give him full access to any of my staff meetings he chose to attend. I was told that I was to ask no questions of him. 

I suspected that the man was a high-ranking member of some clandestine agency that was operating outside of any approved channels. I wasn't squeaky clean; I knew that sometimes actions were necessary that the American public could not know about and that budget committees were not the best venue for national security planning. Still, I didn't understand or approve any operation that involved the smoking man. He reeked of evil. I already loathed him for what I suspected he had done to Mulder and Scully. I was sure he was the one who shut down the X-Files. 

It was beyond my understanding why the man was so interested in Agent Mulder. Mulder's only official attention should have been from some fiduciary specialist, wondering why the FBI was investigating such esoteric activities as beast women and little green men. Yet Mulder was under constant scrutiny. 

First was Scully. She was a move in the right direction, a paragon of common sense and scientific principals of investigation. I was as surprised as the next person when she started to validate Mulder's findings. They made a hell of a team, solving cases that would have ended up in closed files to puzzle agents for years to come. I know Scully was reporting above my head; it didn't make me happy, but I accepted it. 

Apparently, Scully's support of Mulder was not a desirable outcome. My orders were to separate them. 

Then, as Mulder suffered punishment detail after punishment detail, I was suddenly ordered to allow him to investigate a case he found interesting, a case already assigned to a new agent, Alex Krycek. 

Krycek gave me no reason to complain with his conduct on the Cole case. I saw nothing unusual in his actions and by the end of the investigation, Mulder and he seemed to be working well together. 

I made a point of reviewing his reactions after the shooting inquiry with the psychiatrist who spoke to him. The doctor said that Krycek's reactions were exactly what he expected from a green agent. Krycek was second-guessing himself, switching between angrily defending his actions and doubting that he had made the right decision. 

Mulder was surprisingly supportive to the young agent. I had expected him to fight against working with Krycek on another case, but he had no complaints. I knew he was still bouncing his ideas off Scully, but I noticed him spending a fair amount of time with his new partner, going out to coffee with him and spending some time with him after work. Krycek was different than Scully, accepting of Mulder's ideas, but perfectly willing to go toe to toe with him if they didn't agree. 

OooOooO 

Wanting to talk to Krycek, I went looking for him. 

I found Krycek and Mulder literally in that toe to toe position in the file room. They were standing close to each other, jaws set, eyes flashing, Mulder's finger tapping Krycek's chest as he read him the riot act. 

I wondered if I was going to have to physically separate them when Krycek quietly stepped back and said, "Finished, Mulder?" 

"I... " Mulder said. 

"You can go over the facts again," Krycek said. "Persuade me that you're right, but don't think that yelling at me is enough to convince me, because it won't." 

Mulder's lip jutted then he unexpectedly smiled. He put his hand on Krycek's back and said, "All right, over dinner. We'll read the file again and I'll show you why I think that Detective Putnam falsified his report." 

"You buying?" Krycek asked. 

Mulder laughed and they went off together. 

They didn't notice me. I stood there thinking. Mostly I wondered what it would do to Mulder if Krycek betrayed him. 

It wasn't really my business. I knew that the man in the rumpled suits had some plan in motion involving Alex Krycek. If I was wise, I would let it happen. 

My ass was on the line. 

First of all, I knew that the smoking man had the support of my superiors. Secondly, certain past indiscretions had been hinted at. I had been a fool at one stage of my life. It was the first time that Sharon had left me and right after I failed to get the assistant director position I now had. I had always had a strong sex drive and I had always found solace in giving expression to it when the rest of my life wasn't going well. In other words, I screwed myself when I thought I was screwing a pretty boy. 

Alex Krycek was another pretty boy, a very pretty boy. 

Then there was Mulder, a man who was my weakness and who occasionally smiled at me in a manner that said he knew it. 

Hard to believe that I had finally made assistant director and still had so little self-restraint. 

OooOooO 

Fate had it in for me. Two days after I witnessed Krycek meeting with my cigarette smoking friend, I walked into the garage to find Alex Krycek staring at an empty parking spot. His hands were on his hips. His mouth was pursed into a pissed off pucker and he had a frown line showing above his nose. At his feet, a heap of dry cleaning bags sat. 

"What's wrong, Agent?" I asked, amused. 

"I was supposed to have one of the cars checked out. Mulder and I are driving over to Rosaryville early tomorrow. He told me to pick him up," Krycek said. "So I waited to pick up my dry cleaning. It's going to be hell to get all of this home on the bus." 

I reached down and picked up several of the plastic wrapped garments. "We can't have your wardrobe ruined. Come on, Agent, I'll drive you. I wanted to talk to you anyway." 

Krycek's cell phone chimed and he lifted a brow in apology. "Krycek," he said into the device. Then, "Mulder, did you take the car?" 

A pause and then, "You forgot? Mulder, I told you I had all my dry cleaning and you told me to pick you up. Oh, for God's sake, one of your oh so secrets meetings. Well, no, you don't have to come back here. AD Skinner said he would drop me at my apartment." 

Shaking his head, Krycek said, "And to think that Scully hates my guts for taking her place. Mulder is impossible." 

"Scully has a bit of the masochist about her," I said. "I think it was her Catholic school girlhood." 

A swift smile quickly repressed and then Krycek slid into the front seat of my car. He slumped back against the seat. He looked tired. Mulder was a demanding taskmaster. When he had a case, he ate, drank, and breathed it. His partner, if he had one, was supposed to keep up. I knew that the pair had still been at work when I left last night. I had been plowing through reports until almost nine pm. They had both been at work when I came in this morning and I arrived half an hour early. 

"You are allowed to say 'no' if Mulder wants to put in a twelve hour day," I pointed out. 

"We had an idea about the Stratton case," Krycek said. "Mulder thinks he sees a pattern similar to cases reported in Rosaryville twelve years ago. The cases had been sent to cold case files and some of the information wasn't cross-referenced. We had to pull it all together so we could look and compare our case with the old one. That took hours." 

"So Mulder is impossible, but you're not asking to be reassigned?" I asked. 

"Mulder's not like anyone I have ever met," Krycek said, something odd in his voice. 

"He's not the kind of agent that an ambitious young rookie like you would choose for a partner," I replied. 

"Ambitious?" Krycek said. "Yeah, I was that." 

There was regret, anger, and bitterness in that young voice. What was Krycek saying? I wasn't sure about him despite being aware of his connection. The smoking man used me, but didn't own me. Krycek could have as unwilling a connection to the man as I did. 

"Could I ask you something, Sir?" Krycek said. "Off the record?" 

"If it's anything illegal," I replied, giving him warning. He lowered his eyes, pretty profile, never saw lashes like that in my life. They were phenomenal. He has a great mouth too, lovely baby mouth. His chin was weak. Maybe that was why they got him. 

"Nothing like that," Krycek said. "I was just wondering. The mother of one of the victims is selling his motorcycle. It's an Indian, a real classic, and she hardly wants enough for it. I told her that, but she said she just wants it gone. Too many memories. I was thinking of buying it. Would that be a conflict of interest?" 

A motorcycle? A Classic Indian? I glanced at Krycek again, the conservative and somewhat ill-fitting suit, the spackled down hair, and the clean cut image. Krycek astride a powerful bike did not fit. Yet I found the idea fascinating ... compelling in a crudely sexual way that I could not get out of my head. 

"I don't think it would be considered a conflict of interest," I said. "However, Agent, we have never had an agent park a motorcycle in the Hoover garage." 

"Oh, no," Krycek said, "I wasn't thinking of using it for the commute although, at least, Mulder would leave it alone. I've always wanted a motorcycle. A friend had one in high school." 

Krycek glanced downward with veiled eyes. What else had that friend taught this lovely creature?Krycek glanced back up at me with a flicker of those lush lashes. He smiled at me in a shy manner that I couldn't quite buy, but still found tempting. 

"My father forbade me to ride when he found out. He wouldn't let me see my friend after that. Sent me to military academy far from home," Krycek said. "It was no doubt good for me." 

"Sometimes things that are good for us are the ones hardest to bear," I pontificated. 

"My father apparently thought so," Krycek said. He scowled, his features changing in a moment to a dark and brutal cast, making me think I would not want to be on this boy's shit list. 

"Parents can be like that," I replied, thinking of my stern and unyielding father. 

"Yes," Krycek said, his eyes darkened by eyebrows lowered and pulled tight. "Yes, they can be. Fathers." 

"I was hoping that you wanted to talk about something else," I ventured. "About the man who assigned you to the Cole case." 

"That was you," Krycek said, choosing to be obtuse. 

"You brought the information to me and I received a call telling me to assign you and Mulder," I said. 

"I must have a patron then," Krycek said, "But I'm not aware of who that might be." 

Krycek looked prim and proper. I knew he wasn't going to tell me what kind of strings bound him to the Smoking Man. 

"If you need a friend, Agent," I said, "a man who can advise you if someone is pressuring you, I am here." 

"I will keep that in mind, Sir," Krycek said. "Should such a situation occur." 

And that was it. He wasn't going to confess to me or ask for my help. I felt unsatisfied, but there was nothing more I could do without directly confronting him. If he was even deeper than I thought, I would have hung myself out to dry by pushing him. We arrived at his apartment. I offered to help him with his dry cleaning, but he replied that he could manage. 

End Game. At least for now. 

OooOooO 

Apparently, the trip to Rosaryville had gone well. Agents Mulder and Krycek were so close together that I thought I would have to pry them apart. They didn't jump apart guiltily when I said Mulder's name. 

"Oh, hello, Sir," Mulder said. "We were looking at the old records from that case I was telling Alex about." 

"The old VCU case?" I said. 

"Yes," Mulder said. "There are a lot of similarities. Look." 

The bloody photos were just as jarring as the ones I had recently seen. Five victims...five dead gay men and then the murders stopped. Why? Was the offender in jail for some other crime? Dead? In a mental hospital? Or had he satiated his blood lust for a time and, now, something else had awakened it? 

"Well, this is in an interesting angle, but a body has been just discovered that meets the MO," I said. "I want you to respond to the crime scene before the victim is moved." 

"Yeah?" Mulder said. 

Krycek looked unhappy, but grabbed his coat as I gave the details to Mulder. 

Mulder asked over his shoulder, "Do you have the keys, Alex?" 

"I told you that I'm not letting them out of my sight from now on," Alex replied. 

"Good thinking, Agent Krycek," I said. I hoped with all my heart that I was wrong and Krycek was no more a threat to Mulder than Scully had been. 

I watched the pair dash out the door. 

OooOooO 

I handed my handkerchief to Alex. He gratefully covered his mouth and nose with it. I scrambled down the bank to look at the new victim. The scene was pretty trampled. I guessed that someone had moved the body at least once. 

Superficially, this one looked like the others, multiple knife wounds, total overkill. Like the others, dental records would have to be used to identify him unless his fingerprints were on file. There was a deep defensive wound on the man's right hand. There was some decay and insect infestation, but the eyes were still partially intact, staring open. 

"Not as much blood as at the other scenes," Alex remarked. 

Ah, Junior was braving the scene. Good boy! 

"Yeah," I agreed. "I bet a lot of these wounds were post-mortem. I've seen enough. Let's get him wrapped and have him delivered to Scully." 

"Better her than me," Alex remarked. 

I patted Alex's arm and said, "You can do this. It gets easier with time, having to look at bodies like this." 

"Thanks, Mulder," Alex said. 

"Let's go take a look at the bike," I said. "Come one. This is your area of expertise." 

The guy's bike was in the river, only the rear of it showing. Alex slowly made his way down the bank, gingerly avoiding the techs that were packaging up the corpse. He got close enough to have a look at the bike and said, "It is an Indian so that fits." 

"Yeah, could be the guy just overestimated his force with the first strike, letting him die almost instantly," I said. "We'll know more when the body is identified." 

For once, Alex didn't want an early lunch. We went back to the office and back to those archive records. I had Alex tracing down owners of Indian bikes in Rosaryville. So far he had found fifty of them. Apparently there was a club for owners in the area and they had gravitated to their own kind. 

We worked until almost eight. I looked over at Alex and see he was wilting. I should have noticed sooner. 

"Hey, you think you want to knock off and grab dinner with me?" I asked. 

"Yeah," Alex said. "I thought you would never ask." 

"Pizza, okay?" I asked. "I'm buying." 

"Pizza sounds good," Alex said. He yawned and stretched. "Let's just order in at your place or mine. I'm so tired that I don't even want to sit up straight." 

"My place," I said. "If both of us sneeze at the same time at your place, the walls will explode." 

"Yeah, well, I keep my place so clean you wouldn't need to sneeze," Alex said. "But I like your couch better so we'll go there. Did I tell you I found a place? A duplex. I have to get some time free next weekend to move." 

"I'll help you," I said. I couldn't believe that came out of my mouth, but I wasn't taking it back. 

"Really? Great! I haven't been here long enough to make any friends," Alex said. "I'm getting different furniture for the most part. I leased that other shit." 

"Glad you're settling in to stay," I said and I really meant it. 

OooOooO 

"Is that the last one?" I asked as I set a box down. 

"Yeah," Alex answered. "Thanks for helping me." 

It was not the kind of thing I normally did. In fact, not even Scully envisioned me as the kind of person who would help a partner move out of their apartment. Not that Scully would ever have to ask me. She had other friends and she had the Scully family, an endless league of red haired cousins, not to mention burly and unpleasant brothers. I think one thing I liked more about Alex is that he needed me. I felt as if I needed Scully more than she needed me. It felt disloyal to think about it, but it was still true. 

"You should be done by tomorrow," I said. "I have an extra ticket for a Knick's game. I'd love to have you come with me." 

The smile I received in return was amazing. It made the labor worthwhile. Alex said, "Thank you, Mulder. That's..." He lowered his eyes and seemed almost choked up. "You're a good friend." 

I said, "I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't mention that this is a bad area of town." 

Looking about him, Alex shrugged and said, "I'm buying an Indian bike to rebuild. I get to use the garage here. That way the bike will be safer and I'll have a dry place to work. I'll be okay. This area isn't as bad as it looks." 

I had suspected that Alex was going to buy a motorcycle soon. This was the first I had heard that he had picked one out. It bothered me that it was an Indian. The killer was still out there and we still didn't know how he was picking his victims. I wanted to talk to him about, but I decided I would wait until later. 

The duplex itself was all right. It was bigger than Alex's pigeonhole of an apartment. I have never seen Alex's apartment until I helped him move out. Somehow I imagined Alex living in some magazine layout of a place, but his old apartment was furnished much like mine. It was a lot smaller though and crowded with piles of books, computer junk, and even a guitar. 

"You're going to rattle around in here," I remarked. The furniture that had filled Alex's old place barely made a dent in this more spacious residence. 

"That will be nice for a change," Alex said. "I'm going to take a shower, Mulder. Grab another beer. I'll take you to dinner when I get out. Man, you don't know how much I appreciate your help." 

"No problem," I said, finding that I meant what I said. I had turned down an invitation for lunch and web surfing at Frohike's to help Alex. To have two conflicting engagements was as close to being a social butterfly as I came. 

Sitting there, a cold beer dangling from my hand, I listened to the shower run, my mind playing with what my partner looked like under his concealing suit. So far, Alex hadn't asked me to examine any insect bites any place on his body. His signals were ambiguous. He had a habit of coming close to me, right up in my body space. I heard one of my colleagues refer to Krycek as Spooky Junior and make a sneering reference to him being a suck up. Someone else had snorted and said sucking up to me was one hell of a big mouthful. 

It pissed me off, for Krycek's sake. They had done the same thing with Scully, talked about her, mocked our friendship, and impugned that we were doing things partners were not allowed to do. In Scully's case, they were far off track. She might have been receptive, but it had never happened. We played our games and kept our distance. 

Alex now. Alex was a big boy, not a good Catholic girl like my Scully. Scully I had always felt wanted to be taken very seriously. She wasn't the kind of woman who you could have sex with and go back to previous roles. If it hadn't worked out, I would have lost her as a partner. Of course, now I had lost her anyway. I briefly considered why this thought hadn't dawned upon me previously. I don't know. I couldn't quite see it. 

Alex might be fun if he swung that way. I blew on the neck of my beer bottle, imagining it was another thing all together. 

Alas for my prurient thoughts, Alex emerged from the bathroom almost fully clad. He didn't have his shirt on yet, but he had put on fresh jeans. A towel was draped around his neck. His hair looked soft and had more reddish high tone than it appeared to have before, now that the goop was out of it. He would look better without the hair gel and with his hair longer. I considered how that might be stated as the concern of a senior agent, but not even my convoluted reasoning could justify making hair style suggestions. 

"You want to take a shower too?" Alex said. "You could wear one of my sweatshirts, but you wouldn't be able to get in my pants." 

It was a long moment before Alex realized why I was laughing so hard. He ventured a kick at me and a very Scully like scowl. "Mulder, you know what I meant." 

"Yes, Alex," I said, trying to keep the chuckle from spilling out again. "I would." 

I had the shower running when Alex came into put the shirt on the towel rack to wait for me. I heard him mutter, "Talk about walking into something. Into my pants...wise up, Alex." 

I backed away from my teasing over dinner. We talked about basketball, motorbikes, and about work, although we avoided discussion of our current case. I found myself reluctant to leave Alex's company at the end of the evening, but he started to yawn so I finally excused myself. 

OooOooO 

The next day, Alex and I stopped by the office to pick up the tickets. Alex went to the john and I decided to go through my in-box. I found an envelope with some copied notebook pages from one of my old co-workers at the VCU. He had found his notes misfiled and been kind enough to send them to me once he found out I had a similar case. 

When Alex came back, he groaned when he saw I was working. I looked up, pushed back my reading glasses, and said, "I just want to read this. Don't worry. I won't make us miss the game." 

"Okay, I guess I could finish the progress notes for Skinner," Alex said, sitting down at his desk to work. 

OooOooO 

Basketball is one of the few things that can distract me from work. I managed to tear myself away in time to get to the game although there wasn't time for lunch. 

When Alex saw Scully waiting, he frowned. She had the same reaction. I guess this wasn't one of my finer ideas. 

I had wanted to try to straighten out the awkward note at their first meeting when Alex had followed me into the autopsy room where Scully had been working. Now that I was more comfortable with the idea of having Alex as a partner ... now that I had some other ideas about where I wanted my relationship with Alex to go, I wanted Scully to accept Alex too. 

Putting a hand on each of my partner's arms, I said, "I wanted you to get to know each other." 

"Mulder," Scully said. "Maybe this should be a boy's night out." 

"Agent Scully," Alex said. He pursed his mouth at the sound of that. "I don't know what to call you. Mulder calls you Scully." 

"Mulder's the only one that calls me, Scully," Scully replied. 

"Agent Scully, I'm not your enemy," Alex said. "I know that Mulder would rather have you, an experienced agent, but I'm doing my best to be a good partner to him. Someday, things will get straightened out. Meanwhile, I'm enjoying the chance to learn from one of the best." 

The frost melted on my ice queen. Alex had handled that beautifully, praising her, acknowledging her place in my life, and complimenting me all in the same few sentences. "Dana," Scully said. "You can call me 'Dana'." 

Alex smiled one of his big toothy grins. He said, "I'm Alex. Want a hotdog? Mulder and I stopped by to pick up the tickets and he started to work. We missed lunch." 

"That's one part of being Mulder's partner I don't miss. It's nice to have weekends and evenings free of work," Scully said. She had the grace to sound faintly wistful, which took the sting from her words. 

"I don't know about ball park hot dogs," Scully said, making a face and commented, "The nitrates are going to give you cancer." She managed to smile and said, "Yes, I would like one. I'm going to live dangerously." 

I trailed behind my partners to the stand, bought myself an iced tea, and then we went to our seats. 

It made me feel good that both Scully and Alex wanted to be my partner. I knew Scully and I had two years to work out our relationship. We had passed from grudging respect to friendship in slow, sure steps. With Alex, it seemed to be happening too fast. I worried about that and I had to question why he seemed so determined that I accept him. 

Sure, I was half in lust with him. I also genuinely liked him. Yet I still wondered why was a blue flamer like Alex willing to risk a ruined career by accepting me as a partner. Yes, I had once been the golden boy of the Violent Crimes division, but that was long ago. Now sometimes even I wondered why I hadn't been dismissed. 

I wanted to ask Alex, the words were in my mouth, but he had just taken a bite of his foot long hot dog. His mouth was shiny with grease, his eyes laughed over the dog at me as his tongue swiped at a tiny glob of mustard. He looked young and beautiful and so happy that I couldn't spoil the moment. Half my intention in inviting him was to gain his trust to the point where he might tell me what he was doing at my side, but now, I just wanted to enjoy this day, doing things like normal people did. 

I could feel steel jaws slamming down on me. Alex Krycek was the bait for a trap, but oh, I wanted him. I wanted him so badly that it hurt. 

When I looked at Scully, she smiled at me, but her eyes were sad. I believe she knew what I was thinking, what I was feeling. I wanted to say I was sorry, but the Knick's forward was in the air. He slammed the ball into the basket, his long legs defying gravity. 

I roared with the rest of the crowd, my hands on both of my partner's shoulders. By the time, I sat down, I just wanted the day, a day like any guy might enjoy, basketball, hotdogs, and good friends. 

Don't be someone I will end up hating, Alex. Don't do that to me. 

OooOooO 

Mulder had his Gunmen. I had Xavier. Xavier and I had been friends since Vietnam. We had both been changed by our dirty little war. I came out of Nam with the need to control and change my environment. Xavier came out of it with the need to walk on the wild side. He worked for the CIA now. At least, they paid him a retainer's check that was expected to secure his loyalty although he remained a free lance operative. I suspected that he dipped his fingers into more than one pot and every pot he touched boiled over. 

Xavier knew one of my secrets, but it was safe with him. It was a double- edged sword, but I had no fear that Xavier would betray me. I was as close as he came to loving anyone. 

Yellow tiger-eyes gazed at me from a honey colored complexion. Xavier was born in the melting pot of New Orleans. He could have passed for any race, light enough to be Caucasian, eyes slanted enough to be Asian, bone structure strong enough to be a Native American. I didn't know myself what his ancestry was; Xavier loved being a mystery and I went along with his wiles. 

I leaned over Xavier's shoulder, my hand gripping his well-developed bicep. "I know there's something in this boy's past, something serious enough for him to fear the results of it was disclosed. I can't find it, but I know you can." 

Xavier leaned back into my body, almost purring. "How are you going to pay me, mon ami?" 

"However you like," I said. Xavier knew that he could have what he liked from me without paying a price, but this was Xavier. He couldn't admit that he had normal urges and needs. So he chose to do me favors and charge a night in his bed. I came away the big winner in the exchange, but Xavier had what he wanted. 

"Go get me some decent food," Xavier said. 

"What do you want?" I asked. 

"Something French," Xavier answered, pulling me down for a kiss before dismissing me. 

OooOooO 

By the time, I came back from persuading a decent French restaurant to allow me to order take-out, Xavier had the information he needed. 

"Our little friend's secret is one of two things," Xavier said. "His father was not Peter Krycek. Mr. Krycek was his step-father. His biological father was not American. He died in prison when the boy was ten. He was held for espionage. He was a Russian spy." 

"Could be," I said, checking the information that Xavier had printed out against what I knew from Krycek's FBI employee file. "They shouldn't hold that against the boy, but a lot of that fifties thinking is still entrenched. What's the other possibility?" 

"Young Krycek was very close to another boy when they were growing up, a Keith Reinhold," Xavier said. "The other young man leads a rather flamboyant life currently. He's very active in the Gay rights movement and speaks often about a young love, taken from him by an uncaring father." 

"It fits," I said. "Agent Krycek said something about having been sent to military school because a friend taught him to ride a motorcycle." 

"Ride something," Xavier said. 

"I could tell he was very angry with his father, his stepfather, I guess," I said. "Any chance of having someone get close to Keith Reinhold?" 

"You want to find out if our young agent plays for both teams?" Xavier said. 

"Yes," I said. 

"Personal interest or professional?" Xavier asked. 

"A blend of both," I said. I lifted Xavier's sharp chin with a gentle touch and said, "What about the other man that I asked you about? The man with the smoking habit?" 

Xavier shook his head and said, "Walter, I can't investigate him. Believe me, if there was anything I could do, I would." 

I always thought Xavier could pull magic bunnies from his hat. It was the first time he said no to me. The first time he disappointed me. 

Seeing my expression, Xavier said, "Will you still spend the night?" 

For an answer, I pulled him to his feet, pulled him to my chest, and kissed him hard. 

After a moment, Xavier's hands were busy unbuttoning my shirt, pulling it out of my belt. He could get me naked faster than any other person I ever slept with. 

I've always loved Xavier's body; he is long, slim, smoothly muscled, and golden from head to toe. His pubic hair was crisply curled, lush, and his cock was a thing of beauty. I love his ass too although usually I prefer a plush ass that you can grab in both hands and fondle. Xavier works out too much to have any body fat. However, he has round cheeks, tight, silken, and so soft of flesh that I can't resist running my stubble harsh face against them. When I'm with Xavier, I almost love him. I spend long moments kissing my way down his back, exploring every inch of his body. He has scars, Xavier, but they are part of him, part of us. 

Finally, we found a position, decided who was doing what. Xavier mounted me, he rode me as I lay beneath him, my cock in the white hot heat of his body. My eyes were slits as I gave myself to this passion. Grunts and groans were forced out of me. Xavier smiled above me, lost in his own pleasure, his hand stroking his cock as he rose and fell. He came before I did and stops moving. Damn it. I pushed him off me almost roughly and when he is on his back, I lifted his legs and plunged back inside him. I growled as he smirked at me. The rest was hard and fast, but he didn't care. If there was pain, he has that side of him that relished it. 

I rolled over to sleep when I pulled out of him. I sprawled face down, my arm dragging to the floor. He grunted and I felt him get of bed. A moment later, he cleaned both of us before pulling the sheet over us. Just before he threw an arm over me, Xavier said, "If I think I can get that smoking man, I will." 

My heart leaped. From Xavier, that was as good as a promise. 

OooOooO 

Come Monday, I pounded on Alex's door. It was seven am...good enough for me and he hadn't answered his cell phone when I called to say I was coming. 

Alex came to his door, wearing a robe. I pushed inside and said, "Hey, we have identification on the body. He was Mark Simons, a public relation's executive. I have the address for his apartment. He lives with a roommate by the name of Adrian Sands." 

"It couldn't have waited until eight?" Alex complained. He reached to shut the door and his robe fell open. 

That was distracting. I liked what I saw...I might have been willing to wait to question Sands, but Alex pulled the robe shut and said, "I have to finish getting dressed. Coffee in the kitchen." 

Coffee and English muffins. I should show up early more often. I never remembered to pick up breakfast items unless you count ordering too much pizza and having a cold slice the next day. 

I handed Alex a toasted muffin as soon as he came in. He shook his head indulgently and took it, holding up a hand to stop me when I stood up. He settled at the table after doctoring his coffee with two teaspoons of sugar and slathering his muffin with jam. He had a sweet tooth. 

Oh hell, I like to watch Alex eat. I sat back down. 

"Mulder, I am not going to try to drive without some coffee and food to quick start my brain," Alex said. 

"You're usually chipper in the morning," I said. "What happened? Nightmares?" 

"Yeah," Alex said. "It's no big deal." He took a big drink of coffee and a big bite of his muffin. "I'll get used to it." 

"I hope not, Alex," I said, even to myself, my voice sounded tender and almost wistful. I wanted Alex to remain the man he was, still excited about his profession, and not barricaded behind layers of emotional scar tissue. 

"You want me to have nightmares?" Alex asked, muffin muffling his words. 

"No, of course not, but I like you, Alex. I like the way you have such intense feelings, such sympathy. It would be a loss if that all went away," I said. 

The phone rang before Alex could responds. He abandoned the remains of his muffin and coffee to answer it. 

"Hello?" Alex said. 

Whoever it was must have started speaking immediately. I thought it might be Alex's father, as I had never seen so much thwarted rage on Alex's face except during that one call from his dad. 

Alex said, "I'm getting ready for work. My partner's here already." 

There was a pause and Alex spat, "You would think that. It's not that way. You can't..." 

Another poisonous pause. Alex said, "Look, I can't talk to you right now. I..." 

Whatever was said next made Alex mad enough to hang up the phone. He was pale faced and shaking. 

I walked over and put my arms around him. I didn't mean to do it. It just seemed like the right thing to do. He sagged into me and I hugged him. He fit in my arms beautifully; he felt right. I stroked his hair. It wasn't gelled yet and I love how it felt. I really wanted to kiss him, but I held back. 

"Was that your father?" I asked. 

No answer. Alex pressed his face into the crook between my neck and shoulder. I could feel him breathing. I held him. It seemed to be what he wanted. 

Finally, Alex straightened and said, "Forget this happened, Mulder. I'm okay. I can handle...my family problems." 

"Okay," I said. My arms felt empty without him. I reached out, patted his shoulder and said, "But if you change your mind, Mulder's here. I have my fair share of family problems too. We could be a support group of just the two of us." 

That made Alex smile just a little. He said, "Yeah, right, Mulder you have walls behind walls." 

"Yeah," I said, swatting his ass as he went by me. "But they could all come tumbling down for you." 

I bet Alex thought I was kidding. It was safer that way. I think I was serious. 

OooOooO 

The week had flown past. We had interviewed the victim's roommate twice. We had tracked his week, looked at his phone records, and compared lists of his known acquaintances with the other three victims. The only connections between them were the same ones we already knew. He was gay and drove an Indian motorcycle. The bike had been one of the newer Indians and he had never been to Tinman's for parts. He had ordered the bike from the factory in California. 

Something about that last interview evaded me. The murdered man's room- mate expressed the usual shock and horror, but there was some detail that didn't make sense. 

I had been with the Gunmen last night. I hadn't taken much personal time with Alex this week. I guess I was running away from my reaction to Alex. Frohike, Langly, and Byers were my friends; I was comfortable with them in a way I could be with no one else. There were no landmines in our relationships as there were with my fast developing feelings toward my new partner. 

I had stayed so late that Frohike invited me to sleep on the couch. I had turned my friend down, knowing I wasn't going to sleep anywhere. I rested on my couch, remote in my hand as I flipped through channels, my brain racing around and around the problem. 

I was wrong about sleep though; I slept, waking up with my remote embedded in my cheek. It was Saturday again, time for all good agents to rest, mow lawns, go out on dates, and do things that normal people do. I wanted to work. More so, I wanted to bounce an idea off my current partner's head. Alex was a sharp guy. Sometimes he saw things that I missed or put them together in a different way. Monday seemed ages away. Surely, Alex wouldn't mind me paying him a visit. I had helped him move, hadn't I? Not to mention that Knicks game. Maybe I'd invite him out for an early lunch or a late breakfast. Alex always liked to eat. 

The garage was open when I drove up. He was wearing blue jeans, old ones, with a frayed hole in the left ass cheek. He wore a tattered sleeveless olive green sweatshirt, streaked with oil. I don't know what the hell he was doing bending over his bike that way, but I didn't care. My mouth went dry and my cock stood straight up. Yowser. My partner was hotter than hell. 

I stood watching Alex, as he worked on the bike, muttering to himself. Finally he dropped his wrench and kicked the bike. "You just don't want to work," He bitched at the Indian. 

"I'd offer to help," I said, "But I've never worked on a bike or a car." 

Alex looked up, grinned at me, and said, "Me neither as far as working on a bike. I'm following that manual over there. I've worked on cars though. My father was big on self reliance. I can't get the carburetor adjusted on this thing. It's either running too fast or stuttering to a stop." 

"Ready to take a break?" I asked. 

"A working break or a fun break?" Alex asked. 

"Little of both," I admitted. "Lunch on me and I pick your brain while we eat. There's something bothering me about Mark Simon. The way he was found was different than the others. His roommate's story seemed to fit, but there was some detail that's wrong. How it's wrong is the problem." 

"I'll have to clean up first," Alex said. He scooped some goop out of a can and rubbed his hands together, finishing by drying his hands on a red scrap of cloth. 

I had never worked on a car or pounded a nail with serious intent. My father was the kind of man who didn't even mow his own lawn, much less service his car or do home repairs. We were, if not the spoiled rich, a reasonable facsimile. 

Krycek's duplex was decorated now. The furniture was still sparse, but he had added a few pieces, including a comfortable couch that was a lot like my old faithful. I flopped onto it and grabbed for the remote. 

Krycek put his hands on his hips, shook his head, and said, "Don't be shy, Mulder. Make yourself comfortable." 

"Thanks," I said, already channel surfing. 

I listened to the shower run, playing with the idea of asking if he wanted his back washed, but I wasn't going to take that chance quite yet. 

A fresh and clean partner emerged. The jeans were still old, but sans holes, and he was wearing a green short sleeved shirt. He paused in front of the mirror, trying to subdue his hair. He looked as if he was going to head for the hair gel so I said, "Hey, Alex, hair looks fine. Come on. I'm hungry." 

Turning on his heel, Alex followed me. I liked that. I liked him coming at my call. I liked him at my side. At the same time, it scared the hell out of me, especially with all the other feelings churning through me. 

OooOooO 

Alex's choice was a restaurant with a breakfast buffet. I would say I had my money's worth, even if I only had one sparsely filled plate. Alex had some of almost everything...twice. Amazing how the boy could eat. 

Once Alex had slowed down, I was ready to start picking his brain. I played with my napkin, folding it into patterns, looking for the answer that danced in my brain, but wouldn't quite reveal itself. 

"When I was looking at Simon's e-mail, someone came to the door. Adrian Sands said something about the delivery being a week too late, that Simon was out and now he would never need them," I said. "Out of what?" 

"Disposable contact lenses," Alex said. "He was out of them. Sands told me that Mark couldn't see a thing without them." 

"And there it is," I said. I grinned at Alex. "You read the autopsy report. Enough of his right eye was left, that Scully could tell if he had been wearing a lens." 

"And he wasn't because he was out of them," Alex said. "I've heard that your eyes can be infected if you wear disposable ones too long." 

"His back-up glasses were next to his computer," I said. "So how in the hell did he drive his bike to the beach where he was found?" 

"Unless his killer drove it," Alex said. 

"But that's not our boogey man's MO," I replied, spearing a sausage off Alex's plate. Somehow his food was tastier than mine. Alex rolled his eyes, but let me grab one of those small cinnamon rolls he had piled on his tray. 

"Yeah, all of the other victims have been in remote locations, beaches, parks, lover's lanes," Alex said. "He goes to where they are. Either they are opportunistic victims or he stalks them and waits until they are someone he likes before he kills them." 

"And our dear friend, Adrian, said that Simon's bike was missing. He didn't report it because he thought Mark was on a date," I said. 

"For three days," Alex added. "I think we had better question Adrian Sands again." 

"I agree," I said. "I think he took advantage of the murders to cover up one of his own. Mark Simons paid a lot of his bills, all of them from what I saw. Perhaps he was tired of Adrian sponging off him." 

"Motive and opportunity," Alex said. "Adrian had both. I bet if we check there are some interesting withdrawals from Simon's accounts." 

Alex's eyes darkened as he continued to eat. "This case sucks. Simon with all his potential murdered; no one even reporting him being missing all that time. Then there's poor Mrs. DiBenedetto. Not only was her only child murdered, but the mortuary lost his ashes." 

"Why are you staying in touch with her?" I asked. "Do you think that she knows something?" 

Alex shook his head, shifting on the red vinyl bench nervously. "No, she's just what she appears to be. A woman who wrapped her entire life in her son and lost him. I just feel sorry for her." 

"You won't make it in this business long, Alex, if you don't toughen up," I said. 

"I have made it!" Alex said. "I may look young, but I put in three years on the New York police force before I applied to the FBI. Sometimes, a case gets to you more than the next one does. Besides, she gave me the Indian for a song." He glared at me. "I'm not that green, Mulder. Give me some credit." 

"Take it easy," I said. "I didn't mean to offend you." 

"Okay," Alex said, shoving his plate away. 

I could tell Alex was still pissed off at me. "Believe me, if I didn't think you had potential, I wouldn't be..." I said, not sure how to complete the sentence. 

Alex smiled at me and said, "You wouldn't consistently steal my weekends and evenings?" 

Happy that we back on an even keel, I said, "Yeah, I wouldn't." 

"I won't let feeling sorry for Mrs. DiBenedetto get in the way of the investigation," Alex said. "Not that we seem to be getting anywhere other than deciding that we have a copycat murder in Mark Simon's case." 

"We'll get him," I said. "He'll make a mistake." 

"The Green River Killer still hasn't been caught nor has the BTK killer," Alex said. He didn't look sorry for being snide. 

"Pessimist," I said. 

"Just keeping track of the facts," Alex said. 

"Come on," I said. "I know a judge who might get us a search order for Simon's apartment. Well, at least, AD Skinner knows a judge and I have Skinner's home address." 

"Shouldn't we change first?" Alex asked as he dropped the tip. 

"Not yet," I said. "Skinner won't be dressed up in a three piece suit either. It's Saturday." 

"Now he notices," Alex grumbled, but he still drove to Skinner's apartment. 

OooOooO 

Most agents don't show up at my apartment on evenings and weekends; most wouldn't voluntarily seek out my company. I scare them. I'm proud of that. I like them scared. It makes them think. 

Mulder was beyond intimidating. Now he showed up at my door with Agent Krycek in tow. At least, the junior agent looked nervous. I scowled at them both. I was fresh from the shower, still feeling a lot more mellow than I was willing to show. That goodbye fuck from Xavier could have made me grin for week. "Agents, to what do I owe this unannounced visit?" 

"I need a search warrant," Mulder said. "Before Adrian Sands disappears." 

"Adrian Sands? Room mate of your last victim," I said. Damn I was good. 

"Yeah," Mulder said. "Only Alex and I don't think that Mark Simons was really another victim of our guy." 

"Is that right, Agent Krycek?" I asked, looking over my wire rims at the younger of the daring duo. 

"Simons wasn't wearing his contact lessons," Krycek said, looking at Mulder for support. 

"And?" I asked, making my question sound like the head master asking who was running in the hall. 

"He couldn't have driven his bike without them," Krycek said. "Mulder and I think his room mate killed him." 

"I see," I said, putting my best AD look on my face. It must have been good. Agent Krycek not only looked pale, but he ducked behind his partner. 

"We really need the warrant now," Mulder s aid. 

"Sit down," I barked. "I'll see what I can do." 

Truthfully, I was pleased that they had at least solved one of the murders, but why encourage Mulder? He was intrusive and undisciplined enough for two. 

OooOooO 

Alex was squirming next to me on AD Skinner's black couch. I tapped his shoulder and said, "It's okay. He's just trying to intimidate us." 

Hunching down as if to avoid notice, Alex said, "Yeah? Well, he's succeeded with me." 

Skinner scowled and said, "I am making a call, Agent Mulder." 

Looking a little sick, Alex tried to sink even deeper into the cushions. I grinned at him and sprawled back as if I spent every evening on the assistant director's couch. Skinner had put on a shirt before picking up a phone but he still had bare feet. I mourned the loss of Skinner's naked torso when he pulled the sweatshirt over it. My boss was built, wide shoulders, narrow waist, big pectorals. He had a mild case of love handles right now, but I know that he was taking time off to hit the gym. I enjoyed scheduling time at the same gym when I could. I didn't enjoy weight lifting or boxing, but I liked to watch while I used running machines. 

More wiggling...it had gone from cute to annoying. I lifted a brow in Alex's direction. He whispered, "I have to piss." 

Maybe I didn't hang out at Skinner's, but I knew the way to the john. I said, "First door you see." 

Instead of getting up, Alex squirmed some more until Walter roared, "The bathroom is right over there, Krycek!" 

And off Alex sprinted. I would have laughed but Skinner was staring at me. I listened to Walter's persuasive voice as he talked to the judge. Although playing politics was never going to be one of my skills, I had a grudging respect for Skinner's skills in that respect. 

"We have it," Skinner said. He went to his refrigerator and pulled out three beers, handing one to me and the other to Krycek. 

"We're going to be working," Alex said. 

"Agent Krycek, if you can't handle one beer without impaired senses, you don't have Russian blood," Skinner said. He plopped down in his armchair with a grunt. "A courier will be over with the search warrant. This better be good, Mulder." 

"I think it will be," I said. "Alex and I have been over it a half dozen times. It's the only theory that fits the facts." 

"Sir, we need to have access to Sands' bank account records too," Alex said. "We think that he's been stealing from the victim." 

"I'll see to that in the morning," I said. "The warrant will cover his computer, bank records, as well as any evidence you can find. I've arranged for an evidence team to meet you there." 

"All right," Alex said. 

Skinner smiled at that. "First major bust? Other than Cole, of course?" 

At the mention of Cole, Alex frowned. I knew that the shooting still bothered him, although hopefully not enough to make him hesitate the next time he had to decide to fire his gun or not. 

"My first homicide where I'm an investigator. I had a few major crimes cases when I wore a uniform, but I wasn't in charge of them," Alex said. 

"Just be careful not to do anything that will give the man's defense attorney ammunition," Skinner said. "Getting cases thrown out of court because of technical errors is one of the worst things anyone in law enforcement can do." 

"We'll try to be by the book," I assured. "Don't worry. Krycek quotes procedures to me all the time." 

"Someone should," Skinner said. 

Skinner is hard on me. I think it's because he expects the best of me. Either that, or I sometimes like to think it's because I drive him crazy...Skinner has lust in his heart for me. 

We spent the wait answering Skinner's detailed questions about our case. I had a feeling we had solved one murder. However, Adrian Sands had killed once possibly after Mark Simons had confronted him. Our other killer wouldn't stop until he was locked away or until he died. He was the one we had to find. 

Skinner's phone rang and he answered it. I saw him glance our way and smile. I knew he had the warrant and stood up, eager to go. 

Hanging up, Skinner said, "Change of plans. They will meet you at the location with the warrant. I'll send an evidence team and arrange for some local support. Please change into something presentable before meeting them. There will be time." 

"No problem," I said. "I have a suit in the car. We'll stop by and change at Alex's place." 

As we went out the door, Alex muttered, "I told you we should have changed first." 

Smart ass... Alex must be getting that from me. 

OooOooO  
We met the entire array at a library parking lot about a block from Sand's apartment. We had an evidence team, two cars with uniformed officers, and the courier with the warrant. Damn, Skinner was good. 

Our little circus moved to the apartment building. Sand's apartment was on the first floor of the aging brick building. Stairs led directly to the entrance. I pounded on the door. Alex was by my side; everyone else waited on the sidewalk. Curious passer bys were ushered away by the uniformed officers. 

I knocked on the door and Adrian answered. His long, patrician features lengthened when he saw the array of police on the sidewalk. He stood in his doorway, shaking his head, white blond curls moving gracefully. "No, I've had enough of this crap. This is my apartment and I..." 

"As a matter of fact, Mister Sands, your name doesn't appear on the lease," I said, slightly amused to see his indignation turn into apprehension. "I happen to know that because it's important to understand whose property we are searching when we ask to execute a warrant." 

"What do you expect to find here?" Sands said. 

The tall blond man was only wearing black satin lounge pants. He pulled the tie to the pants tighter, making no move to step aside. 

"We have the authority to use force to execute this warrant if we have to," Alex said from behind me. I could tell he was impressed with his own authority at that point, but it was working on Sands. 

"Get out of the way," Alex said. 

Adrian nodded and turned around as if to go back toward his living room. I turned around to motion the evidence team inside. As soon as my eyes left Sands, he dashed for the door, pushing me into the stairwell. Alex spared me a glance before chasing after Sands. By the time, I had dusted off my clothes from the fall, Alex had Sands in custody. Bestowing Sands on one of the uniformed officers who were cooperating on our case, Alex ran back to me and asked, "You okay, Mulder?" 

"The only thing hurt is my dignity," I replied. 

"Do we want them to start processing Sands or you want to talk to him here?" Alex asked. 

"Here," I said. "I think it will be more effective psychologically. Let's go watch the fun. Make sure he is read his rights. We'll do it again later, but I don't want anything to screw up the court case. 

With a full evidence team, there wasn't much for us to do. I watched them spray luminal everywhere. You never saw so much latex in your life. 

Our serial killer didn't have a fancy modus operandi. With all the damage he did to the bodies, the actual cause of death might have been concealed. Adrian Sands drove a truck with a camper top. Great way to transport both a bike and a body. I asked one of the evidence guys to check out the truck. I bet he would find blood and that it would match Mark Simon's. 

OooOooO 

Adrian could not take his eyes off the glowing luminal stains. I asked the team to leave the lights off. The traces of luminal outlined a rough shape of the corpse. The heaviest traces were near the kitchen, but a trail of splotches traced up a wall and there were a few spots leading to the door. 

Sands had a nice long time to stare at the glowing stains while Alex read him his rights again. 

"Of course, the DNA experts will have to compare the blood samples," I said, following Adrian's gaze. 

"I read that bleach does the same thing," Sands said, crossing his legs and trying to look indifferent to all the glowing evidence. 

"Yeah, but bleach doesn't have the same DNA as your roommate," I said as Alex ostentatiously cut squares of carpet. 

"Hey, that's going to screw up my deposit," Adrian whined. 

"Oh, I think killing your roommate here probably did that," I said. 

I was watching Alex's ass. He had discarded his jacket for the duration so I had a nice view. Sands took a glance too. I said, "Alex thinks you planned the entire thing, but I said, no. I think it just happened. What was it an argument over your share of the rent? Over money you borrowed?" 

"I'm an artist," Sands said. "Mark knew that. He..." 

"An artist that spends more time posturing than producing," I said. 

"All the pressure keeps me from creating," Sands said. 

"Simons was a real beast, wasn't he?" I said. "That meeting with his attorney...giving you notice that he was evicting you. All by the book so you couldn't get out of it. So you decided to steal what you could and he caught you." 

"I'm not going to say anything to you," Sands said. "I know my rights." 

"Have it your way," I said. "A judge might show you more sympathy than a jury. A jury of your peers might not include any gay artists...how many are registered to vote anyway? Just in case though, we're going to file all kinds of charges...fraud, credit card theft...felony theft...Alex has quite a list of ideas. You would be better off being prosecuted for a homicide, a crime of passion. A good attorney should be able to bargain it down to a few years on the state's tab. You'll be able to enjoy years of peaceful artistic freedom from bills and pressure. You probably will have no problem finding boyfriends more giving than Mr. Simons, although they will have more candy and cigarettes than the kind of presents you're used to." 

I waved Sands off with the uniformed officers we had borrowed. He bumped into a table and I heard a small clatter. Some of the luminal left on the table had spilled. Alex stood up and picked up the container. 

Sands had disappointed me; I had hoped for a confession, but I thought we had him anyway. There was plenty of evidence. I glanced at Alex. The boy was grinning. He pointed at Sands' very expensive Italian boots where the luminal had spilled. They glowed. I checked to make sure and, no, he hadn't stepped into any of the areas already glowing with luminal. 

"Be sure and keep his shoes for evidence," I said. 

"These shoes cost a thousand bucks," Sands yelled. 

"Those shoes may end up costing you your life," I replied. 

Alex and I left to work on our report. The evidence team was still working, but we had what we needed. One murder down, three to go. 

OooOooO 

Matthew's case was a bust. He was somewhat of a poser, a weekend biker, who sometimes stalked the wild thing at biker rallies. He made the mistake of picking the wrong guy to go down to the riverside with. 

However, he fit the current series of murders. His body was left out where it would be found. There was a great deal of blood, suggesting he lived through most of the assault on his body. There was no evidence of sexual activity... finding that out from the shattered corpses was no field day for forensic pathology, believe me, but Scully had checked the findings and verified that fact. 

Finished early, I wasn't ready to settle down. I said, "Alex, can you pick me up tomorrow? I thought we could go out and eat together tonight and then get an early start tomorrow." 

"I'd love to go out with you tonight," Alex replied. "But about tomorrow, I have an errand to run." 

"What kind of errand?" I asked. 

"Just a personal one," Alex said, looking away when I glanced his way. 

"I could ride along," I said. 

"No, it's really personal," Alex said. "I'll pick you up later though. Go in about noon?" 

"I guess," I said. It wasn't as if I couldn't get to work on my own, but I was used to having someone there, Scully or Alex. Honestly, I was getting used to having Alex there. 

"Yeah," I said, "We've been working so late and on weekends. I'll take the morning off too." 

"Wish we could take if off together," Alex said and then he looked away again as if he hadn't really said it. 

"Me too," I said. "We'll do it. Get to know each other." 

That made Alex's eyes cloud. Damn, I don't understand him...but unlike most of the people I meet unless I'm on a case, I really want to understand him. 

OooOooO 

My suspicions about Alex's errand abruptly lessened. He hadn't been meeting with one of my anonymous enemies. Not unless they were in the habit of leaving biker's leathers in the back seat of his car. 

I picked up the jacket and said, "I can't wait to see you walk into the Hoover wearing this." 

"Mrs. DiBenedetto gave them to me. They were Angel's," Alex said. 

"When did you see her?" I asked, putting the jacket back. 

"This morning," Alex said. "That was where I was. Her car broke down and they finally found Angel's ashes. Stupid mortuary lost them. It turned out they were misplaced and someone finally found them in one of the display containers. I called her about the extra set of keys for the Indian and she was crying. She told me about the ashes and that she didn't know how she would pick them up with her car not working. Poor lady, I couldn't take it." 

"So you brought her to pick up the ashes and she gave you the leathers," I said. 

"Yeah, Angel and I were about the same size. They should fit," Alex said. "And I'll need leathers if I'm going to ride much." 

"So you finally have the Indian running?" I asked. 

"Uh huh, it's a bit touchy, but I took a two hour ride without a problem last night," Alex said. "Want me to take you for a ride?" 

I spent a moment deciding if he was serious. He seemed sincere and I said, "Yeah, pick me up. If I ride with you, does that make me your bitch?" 

Alex choked at that. I offered him a wad of napkins and he recovered after a moment. 

Smirking at him, I leaned back and waited to see what Alex would say. 

Alex said, "You coming on to me, Mulder?" 

Raising my hands, I said, "Just joking." 

"Too bad," Alex said. 

I wasn't sure if he was teasing or not, but I liked the way his voice dropped an octave when he said it. 

When I stared at him, Alex smiled at me and said, "I'll teach you to ride," Alex said. "You might like it." 

I might. I had never seen myself as a biker, but the thought of riding behind Alex on that sleek beast intrigued me. 

"It's a date," I said. "Pick me up at eleven. Wear the leathers." 

Alex nodded and neatly pulled out into traffic. 

OooOooO 

This is not my partner. I don't believe this. When I answered the door, Alex was standing there, but it was not the Agent Krycek I know. This one was incredible. He gleamed. His hair free of gel, thick, rich, shining. The black biker's leathers were painted on him. The chaps outlined his groin, putting his cock on display. I don't remember that his eyes were that green, his lips that sensual, plump, and inviting. 

"Mulder, let's ride," Alex said. 

Something else was different. It took me a minute and then I saw it, a gleaming diamond stud in his left ear. 

"Shit, Alex," I said, pointing at the earring. "You can't get away with that at the Hoover." 

Grinning demonically, Alex said, "Fuck the Hoover. Better yet..." 

His voice changing to a purr, Alex leaned close, "Fuck me, Mulder. It's easy. Just like riding. You just swing a leg over me and turn on the ignition." 

This wasn't Agent Krycek. This was someone entirely different. How fascinating! How wonderful! I knew I should be more concerned for my partner, but this was something to delight that part of me that still believed in wonders. 

It could have a prosaic explanation. Perhaps, Alex had multiple personality disorder. I needed to get him inside where I could talk to him. I gazed at Alex's new incarnation and said, "I'll ride with you later. Come in for a minute, Alex." 

"You have something to drink? I want a drink," Alex said. 

"Sure, cold beers," I said. "Come on." 

He didn't walk like Alex. Alex had an endearingly clumsy walk. This leather clad biker strutted. He moved his ass like a banner, calling constant attention to how round and full it was. When he sat down on my couch, his legs were wide spread, his hand resting near his crotch. 

When I gave Alex his beer, Alex ogled me, undressing me with his eyes. He smiled at me like he liked what he saw. 

Despite saying he was thirsty, Alex played with the beer bottle, his lips over the neck as if he was blowing it. 

"So, Alex, how long have you uh been thinking about getting your ear pierced?" I asked as I sat down on the coffee table in front of him. 

"What do you mean? My ears have been pierced for years," Alex claimed. 

Now I had a close look at his cute little pointy ears on more than one occasion. I had never seen an earring or even an indentation of an empty piercing. 

Leaning close to have a look, I saw the faint redness and opened my mouth to tell him that the pierced earring was obviously new. Before I could speak, Alex pulled me. I ended on top of him, with him grinding beneath me as he devoured my mouth with fierce kisses. His roaming hands tugged here and there; my brain kept telling me to stop him, but the rest of me voted it off the island. 

I struggled to pull the leathers from his sleek body. Getting the pants down was like peeling a grape; they had molded to his body and were warm from his heat. I threw his white tee shirt across the room, kissing the blade of bone above his chest, slipping lower to lick and suckle at his pink nipples. He arched back, his hand pressing at the base of my skull to encourage me to continue. His pants were tangled at his feet. I fell to the carpet to tug off his heavy biker boots and to finish sliding the butter soft leather from his long legs. I could feel the cushion of flesh over firm muscle and strong bone. I wanted him. I was going to have him. 

Confident, naked, Alex walked in front of me, his erect cock bouncing in a way that made my mouth water. He turned at the doorway, looking over his shoulder, face turned back toward me, his arm extended to brace him against the frame. "Come on, Mulder...I'm waiting." 

Oh hell, I didn't care; I wanted Alex and there he was, offering. I pulled off the sock that was my only remaining clothing and left it on the floor by the couch. 

Alex was digging his way through some old UFO journals I had forgotten on my bed the last time I had slept there. He said, "Get some lube, Mulder, and condoms." 

"There's right here," I said, pulling open a drawer. There were plenty of condoms and they weren't expired yet. The lube was well used since I used it for my dates ...with Mr. Hand, but there was enough for tonight. 

I couldn't stop touching Alex. He was more than flesh...I couldn't understand how all of this was hidden behind his drab suits, his diffident manner. There were worlds in his eyes...ghosts in his eyes with all those shifting shadows, the colors I would never know. There was something electric about him like this. It was more than my lust for him. I felt senses I didn't know I had tingle in response. 

Alex's erection pressed against mine as we kissed. I didn't know what he wanted, but I wanted to fuck him. I stroked a finger inside him as I claimed his cock in my mouth. He was tight although he seemed to want my intrusion. I sucked him, my finger working inside him until he groaned, "Fuck me, Mulder." 

Yeah, that was what I wanted to hear. I moved Alex to his side, still working him open as the other hand stroked him. "You've done this before?" I asked. 

"Yeah, what do you think? I can't get enough of it," Alex rasped back. "C'mon, Mulder. Give it to me." 

Man, I should have let Alex fuck me...I loved the way he sounded ...demanding, totally in control. 

My cock pushed in. I could tell Alex wanted it, but he seemed to need more time, like it had been a long time since he had tried this. I pulled out a little, played with his cock as I waited for him to adjust. I couldn't resist kissing between his shoulder blades. 

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Alex muttered. "I'm usually looser by now...maybe I want you too much?" 

Well, that was a good reason. I wondered though. He seemed to know what to expect, but his body reacted as if he was a virgin. I wanted this to be wonderful for both of us so I decided to listen to what his flesh told me. I would treat this like his first time, even if he urged me to be rougher and faster. Besides, I didn't want this to end. I wanted to go on fucking him, feeling the tension build in me, holding back even when pain started to mingle with pleasure. 

I could feel it when Alex started to cum; I made him do it; I was proud that I could make him writhe and gasp like that. I loved it, but I couldn't hold back any longer. The rest was rough and hard then release was like every nerve in my body rushing sensation to my dick. It was electric, wonderful. I was finished in more than one sense. I let myself slowly collapse to one side, pulled Alex with me. We kissed sleepily and then I went out, sleeping the sleep of the well-satisfied. 

OooOooO 

Alex was gone when I woke up. Damn, I hated that. It was the kind of thing I had been known to do, the reason why more than one relationship turned sour, but I hated being on this end of the game. 

Where could he have gone? I looked at my raging morning erection sadly. No place to play unless it's my old friend, Mr. Handy. I was rank and decided I better shower before going in search of my errant partner and...lover. 

Alex wasn't at his duplex or at the office when I called. He wasn't answering his cell phone. On an off chance, I called Skinner and asked if he had seen my partner. Skinner sounded frazzled and said, "No, I haven't seen him. It's Saturday. Leave Krycek alone for once. Let him have some time to relax." 

I had barely ended the call when I had an incoming from Mrs. DiBenedetto. "Agent Mulder?" she said. 

"Alex just left," Mrs. DiBenedetto said. "I think you had better get down here. He was acting very oddly...I think...I think he believes that he's my Angel. He asking a lot of questions about Mr. Pulaski, the man who owns the bike shop." 

I was already moving toward the door before I remembered the keys were, as far as I knew, in Alex's jacket. 

First shot was Scully...no luck. No answer from the Gunmen either. Last bet, I called Skinner. He wasn't pleased, but he said he would be there in fifteen minutes. 

Meanwhile I called Mrs. DiBenedetto back. I said, "I'm on my way as soon as my boss gets here to give me a ride. What's the deal with Mr. Pulaski?" 

"Well, he's very odd," Mrs. DiBenedetto said. "Nothing like his father. I heard that after his father became ill that he had some sort of breakdown and that they put him in a home." 

"How did his father become ill?" I asked. 

"Well, I shouldn't repeat this," Mrs. DiBenedetto said. 

"It could be the solution to your son's death and it might save my partner's life," I said. 

"You think that Leo Pulaski killed Angel?" Mrs. DiBenedetto asked. 

"Yeah, I have my suspicions," I said. 

"Mr. Pulaski Sr. died of AIDS a few years ago. The family lived in Rosaryville before he became sick. He was a very successful businessman from what I heard, but when he found out he was ill, he decided to spend the rest of his life doing as he pleased. His wife left him after she found out how he was infected...some sweet young biker boy. She left the son and Leo Jr. never forgave either of them," Mrs. DiBenedetto said. "I shouldn't know all of this, but I heard Angel and the Tinman talking about it when Mr. Pulaski died." 

"Okay," I said. "If Alex comes back, do whatever you can to keep him from leaving." 

Frohike called as soon as I hung up. Since I had already called Skinnerfor a ride, I thought I had better stick to that plan. Instead, I asked Frohike to dig up whatever he could about Leo Pulaski Jr. 

By the time that I finished with that call, Skinner was pulling up. I ran down the stairs and jumped in beside him. "This better be good, Mulder," Skinner said. 

No Agent Mulder this time. I couldn't tell if that was a good sign or bad. "Now what is this about Krycek?" 

My words came out in a rush. I think I even told him I slept with my partner... 

"Great, you almost get one partner fired and now you've driven your new partner, nuts," Skinner said. 

"Hey, I didn't do a thing to Alex..." I said. 

Skinner shot me a disapproving look and I added, "Nothing to make him act like this. I thought it was strange when he showed up today, but I haven't known him for long." 

"Long enough to risk a homosexual encounter that could have flushed your career down the drain, both of your careers," Skinner said. He added, "I hope it was damn good to take that kind of risk. Being gay in the FBI is possible, but not if you take chances like this." 

I had the feeling that Skinner was talking about this from a personal point of view. That jogged me out of my current state of fear for a moment. I had often wondered about Skinner; my gaydar sometimes worked as well as my other senses. Skinner had always felt like one of the club to me. 

"It was worth taking a chance," I found myself replying. "Good enough that I want it to be real. Only, now I realize...it wasn't Alex." 

"What the hell do you mean?" Skinner asked. 

"I know you're going to think I'm crazy, but Alex has been acting strangely since he bought one of the victim's bike. He's been overly concerned about the victim's mother. Today when he showed up to have me ride with him, he was wearing some of the victim's bike leathers. His ear was pierced, very recently, but he insisted that it had always been pierced. He seemed..." 

Now how the hell could I tell Skinner this? 

I had to tell him though. I said, "Alex told me he had a lot of experience with men sexually, but when I made love to him, he didn't act like it. He felt as if he was inexperienced, perhaps as if he had never had anal sex." 

I felt terrible now about what I had done. If Alex and Angel both occupied Alex's body, Alex might not have wanted what had happened. It was as if Angel and I had conspired to rape my partner. 

"Are you trying to tell me that you think Krycek is possessed?" Skinner asked. 

I didn't answer Skinner immediately. It was all whirling around in my head. I know I thought Alex was sending out signals to me almost since I met him, but nothing had been overt until recently. Maybe it had all been in my head until Angel encroached his way into Alex. 

"I know you have a difficult time accepting things like that," I said. 

"Along with the rest of the world," Skinner said, but his words were gentle as if he was humoring a madman. 

"Tell me why Alex would have gone off on his own, asking questions about the owner of the bike shop where one of the victims worked?" I asked. "The owner, Leo Pulaski, didn't know the other victims. We haven't been able to question him yet. He was out of town when we checked." 

"Might be something Krycek learned from you," Skinner said. "or he may be grandstanding to win your respect. Listen, Mulder, people have been talking about you and your partner since a few days after the Cole case. The joke going the round is that Mulder only has one desk in his office so his current partner can sit under it." 

"How..." I asked. 

"I have Kim listen to gossip for me," Skinner admitted. "She enjoys the job...as discreet as she is, she likes office intrigue. This way she can listen to it all without feeling it's petty." 

"You don't uh correct the people doing the talking?" I asked. 

"That would mean Kim wouldn't be useful in her role," Walter said. "Most of the time, it's relatively innocent stuff, not kind, but just office politics. What I have to hear is anything serious...harassment that is getting out of hand. Anything that could indicate an agent is compromised." 

"But that doesn't include agents having improper relationships?" I asked. 

"If I started on that, I would be firing an agent a year and who knows how many support personnel," Skinner said. "We generally look the other way and hope that people are discreet." 

"It didn't start until today," I said. "Maybe Alex and I were comfortable with each other..." 

"Enough, Mulder," Skinner replied. "Let's just hope that Krycek hasn't totally lost his mind. If he goes after this Pulaski, I don't think possession by a ghost will work as an appropriate legal defense." 

"You sound as if you don't believe that's what happened," I said. 

"Agent Krycek has been under a great deal of stress," Walter said. 

"You mean the way I work?" I said. Yeah, I wondered about that myself. 

"No, Krycek is young and strong," Walter said. "Hard work and long hours wouldn't push him over the edge. He has another problem. I saw him with the Smoking Man." 

Shit, I wondered about Alex, believed he was sent to spy on me during the Cole case. Then I wanted to believe he was just as he seemed, my partner, my young desirable, intelligent partner. 

"So? I've seen you with the Smoking Man plenty of times," I said. 

I couldn't believe I said that. The presence of that strange character with his sardonic smirk and his constant stench of cigarettes had long been a bone between Skinner and me. What was the man doing there in Skinner's office? 

"We'll discuss that at some point," Skinner said. "I don't know who he is either and I don't enjoy having him shoved down my throat, but there's nothing I can do about it. I told you because I suspect that what has really happened here. It's not that Krycek was possessed by a ghost as you believe, I think that the man has been falling in love with you and it's destroying him because the Smoking man has some sort of hold on him." 

I slumped back in my seat. Part of me was filled with rage. Alex was a spy...he had set me up. He betrayed me. 

I wanted to hate him, but I can't. I remember his kisses, but I also remember him bringing me coffee, listening to me when I talked about my series, arguing with me passionately about cases. 

Alex wasn't the one I needed to hate. I hated his puppet master and I wanted to take Alex away from him. I was going to do it. Alex was going to be mine. 

OooOooO 

My phone rang. It was Frohike. He said, "Got into a file on Pulaski. He was a suspect in those slayings in Rosaryville...he was about fourteen then. The father had a lot of money and he put the kid in a private nut house. The killings stopped. I guess the police were just happy to have the mess die away quietly." 

"Yeah," I said. I groaned. Die away quietly was not how those men had died. 

"Anything else?" I asked. 

"Pulaski's wife left with most of the money," Frohike said. "No fault divorce. She didn't want the kid." 

I couldn't imagine that. Why would she be so deeply morally offended that she sought a divorce and yet leave her teenage son to live with the man whose life style she rejected. Unless the kid was crazy before the father's illness...it didn't sound as if Mrs. Pulaski had much tolerance for illness of any sort. 

"Thanks, Frohike," I said. 

It wasn't much I didn't know but it confirmed the gossip that Mrs. DiBenedetto had overheard. Hmm... So why hadn't Pulaski fired Angel when his father died. 

"Hey, Frohike, see if you can find out what was in Pulaski's will about the shop," I said. 

"Sure," Frohike said. 

Frohike was the man. I appreciated him and the other Gunmen to no end. I don't know what I would ever do without them, but I didn't want to try. 

I quickly told Skinner what Frohike had found for me. 

Skinner didn't criticize me for using outside contacts. He nodded and said, "Get Pulaski's address for me. 

OooOooO 

I called to get Pulaski's address from Mrs. DiBenedetto. She gave it to me and said, "Maybe I should go try to stop him?" 

"No," I almost shouted. "Don't go near Pulaski." 

"I feel as if it's my fault," Mrs. DiBenedetto said. "I shouldn't have let him buy the bike. I shouldn't have let him have the leathers...but he's such a nice boy and it was ...was like having my Angel back." 

"I know," I said. 

Skinner turned abruptly. He had almost missed the turn off, which wasn't clearly marked. 

Pulaski had moved back nearly to Rosaryville. He lived on a farm or what had been a farm. Nothing seemed to growing there now. After we left the main drag, there were a couple of winding roads. Overgrown briars had obscured the driveway; we almost missed it. 

The house was dark. My heart was pounding. Either way, Alex was fucked. If he had killed Pulaski, then he would be up on homicide charges or locked up in a hospital for the criminally insane. If Pulaski had killed Alex...I might be the one facing charges. I closed my eyes trying to wall out a vision of Alex, his body violated beyond recognition as those other bodies were. 

The Indian was in the yard. Skinner reached down and touched the bike. "Still hot," Skinner said. "Something must have delayed him getting here." 

"Bike has a touchy carb," I said. "I bet it broke down on the way." 

Just then, Pulaski came out. He was dragging Alex by his feet. I went crazy then, charging for him, wanting to hurt the man who had hurt my...my mate, the man I loved. 

The shot that plowed past my ear should have slowed me down, but it didn't. Skinner's tackle did the trick. We rolled together beneath a broke down truck. Walter's big strong body covered mine. 

"Why AD Skinner, I didn't know you felt this way about little old me," I said. Always a wise ass. 

"Shut the fuck up, Mulder," Skinner said. He got off me. 

It felt almost disappointing. I wiggled forward and Skinner put his hand out to stop me. He grabbed my thigh, missed, and his fingertips closed on my cock. I stopped and yelped... He let go immediately. 

"Just trying to see Alex," I said. 

Skinner let me go and crawled with me to edge of the truck. Pulaski was trying to haul Alex to his feet, but my lover wasn't a light-weight. Suddenly, Alex stomped down at the same time as he lashed backwards with his elbow. 

I suspected Alex managed to hit something else by the way Pulaski screamed. Pulaski doubled over... 

Walter and I rolled out at the same time. I yelled, "Alex, get down." 

My partner seemed groggy or maybe he didn't recognize his name. He turned around and Pulaski grabbed him again. They were struggling. Walter and I ran toward them with our guns drawn. 

I heard a gun go off and then Pulaski was running. Alex fell on the ground. Fuck! 

I froze for a moment, torn between getting to Pulaski and getting to my lover. 

"Look to Krycek," Walter yelled, moving toward Pulaski. 

Okay. I had direction. I hadn't quite made it when I heard the sound of the Indian. It roared incredibly loudly and I thought that Pulaski was escaping on the bike. I finally reached Alex and fell at his side. He was bleeding a little from a cut on his head and I felt a damp spot on his side. 

"Mulder?" Alex asked. "What the hell? Mulder, look at the Indian!" 

Yeah, what the hell... 

I had seen some strange stuff, but this... 

The Indian had started on its own. It was moving around the yard as if straddled by an invisible rider. Skinner stood with his gun out, pointed it at Pulaski. He yelled, "FBI! You're under arrest!" 

Pulaski ran toward Skinner and the damned bike followed. There were flames shooting from it now. Pulaski was screaming. 

"Get out of the way," I yelled at Walter. 

Walter finally listened and jumped away. A moment later, the bike hit Pulaski. He screamed and fell. It spun in a circle and I heard a man's voice laugh. It was a lot like Alex's voice, maybe a tone higher. The bike ran over Pulaski again. 

Walter tried to stop it. He tackled the bike and tried to throw it to the side. He was knocked on his ass, sprawled there, gaping as the Indian turned back, smashing over Pulaski's head. At least the screaming stopped. The Indian ran over Pulaski's groin and his chest a few more times. It left him a bloody ruin before it turned toward us. 

"We were just trying to help," I yelled. I grabbed Alex and dragged him out of the path. 

I guess the Indian was after the house, not us. It roared up the steps, smashed into the window. The house caught fire almost instantly. I got a few more steps and then I was falling...right into Skinner's arms, both of us. 

He made an oof sound, but he caught us. 

Alex looked up into Skinner's eyes and smiled at him so sweetly that I was almost jealous of both of them. Then he passed out so maybe I was wrong that Alex was sizing up my boss for his next adventure. He might have just been out with his eyes open. 

OooOooO 

Mulder sat there with his partner's head in his lap while we waited for the police and the ambulance. 

First, I checked the house, yelled, "Anyone in here?" 

There was no answer. I backed away from approaching heat. I didn't think anyone lived with Pulaski, but you never knew. I had better check Pulaski. I knew he was dead, but it was a formality. 

I winced as I checked for a pulse. Most of his throat was crushed along with the lower half of his face. His eyes were intact. I swore there was still fear in the dead fixed stare. 

I still don't know what I felt...you would think that all these years, all of the dead, that I would be immune to the horror of it. 

I wasn't. I knelt next to the corpse, wondering why he had done it. I wondered what could have stopped him from killing... 

Hearing sirens in the distance, I walked to the end of the driveway so they wouldn't miss it. 

Sirens were the sound of work to me. My adrenaline rose in the expectation of having something to do. It made me realize how much I hated being stuck behind my desk. Maybe I should do something to get myself demoted... 

The fire engines came in time to save most of the house. It wouldn't be safe to enter immediately. I had to remind Mulder of that twice before a weak cry from Krycek served as a more effective reminder. 

I drove Mulder and myself to the hospital behind the ambulance with Krycek. 

"He'll be all right," I reassured. "It's just a scalp wound and a bump." 

"I know," Mulder said. "What I'm worried about is whether that's Alex or Angel in that ambulance." 

Now that Mulder had said it, I was too. Stress might drive Krycek to adopt a simpler identity, but I don't see how it could have made that Indian bike react the way it did. It could have started on its own, but there was no way in hell that it could have repeatedly attacked Pulaski the way it had. 

Jesus. I hated Mulder's cases! 

OooOooO 

"You're sure he'll be all right?" Mulder asked. 

It was the third time Mulder had asked. 

The doctor must have been used to anxious family members. He said, "He has a mild concussion. Just follow the instructions and he'll be fine." 

"Sorry I don't have anything else for you to wear," Mulder said, handing Alex the biker leathers. 

"Yeah, it's okay," Alex said. "but after I get home, I'm going to burn these things." 

"You remember anything from..." Mulder asked. 

"I remember everything," Alex said, with a glance in my direction. "Don't worry, Mulder. It was all my idea; I swear. Angel was hot and heavy to get revenge and the only thing I could think of to do was distract him with thoughts of you. I guess he was...as turned on by you as I am. I was there, just not always in the driver's seat. Trouble was when I fell asleep, Angel really took over." 

"Man, these things are hard to get on," Alex said, wiggling to put on Angel's tight leather pants. 

I decided to get the hell out of the room. I yelled, "I'll get the car. Meet you by the front entrance." 

A few minutes later, the nurse wheeled Alex out and Mulder helped him into the back seat. I saw Mulder hesitate and said, "Get in back with him. You're supposed to take care of him." 

"Your place or mine, Alex," Mulder asked. 

"My place," Alex said. "The bed's bigger." 

I drove there. Alex said, "AD Skinner, you better come inside. We might need a referee." 

"What?" Mulder asked. 

"I'm going to tell him," Alex said. 

It was the right thing to do, but the boy's timing sucked. I muttered a curse as I parked the car. 

"Alex, what do you need to tell me?" Mulder asked again as we helped Alex into the house. 

"Wait," Alex said, uttering a groan. 

Once inside, Alex sat on the couch. He looked at me helplessly until I said, "Mulder, you have to understand. Ordinary people compromise, are compromised." 

"I don't like this," Mulder said. 

This wasn't going well. Mulder was standing by the door as if wanting to be sure of his escape route. 

"I was in the academy when they called me to the office," Alex started. "At first, I thought it was because they found out I was gay. I hadn't been sleeping with anyone, but I was afraid that my past had come back to haunt me." 

Staring at his hands, Alex said, "Instead, there was a guy there I had never met. The director of the academy was looking at me with kind of a sick expression. He said that the guy was a special consultant who needed my help. I have to admit, I was thrilled for a moment. It didn't make sense that they would want a trainee, but I wasn't thinking. Let my ego off the leash." 

"You did something stupid?" Mulder asked. 

"At first, the guy kept talking about you, saying you were a loose cannon, that you were misusing FBI resources for your own purposes," Alex continued. "The man said I would be a patriot if I did what he wanted." 

Mulder's soft voice was deceptive. I could see by the set of his mouth that he was enraged. He said, "They wanted you to spy on me." 

"Yes," Alex said. "I listened and it made sense. It sounded sensible, but I didn't want to do it. I read about the McCarthy era. I didn't want to be a sheep. I said 'no' and I told him why." 

"But you still ended up as my partner?" Mulder asked. 

"He was going to ruin my career," Alex said. "He had proof that I was gay and that I had falsified information." 

"How did you falsify information?" Mulder asked. 

"My Mom had my stepfather swear that he was my biological father," Alex said. "She submitted a birth certificate amendment when I was little. I didn't know Peter Krycek was my stepfather until I was ten. He was pissed off at me one day and blurted it out when he was beating me. He told me that my real Dad was a Russian spy that my Mom slept with. He showed me a picture of the guy and I could see it was true. I looked just like him. I could have straightened out the birth certificate. Maybe I should have, but why drag my Mom though all of that?" 

"You rolled over for them because of that?" Mulder said. 

"I didn't know," Alex said. "I meant to try to lie to them, screw up a lot, make them decide to get someone else, but I fell for you, Mulder. I love you." 

Shaking his head as Alex stood up to go to him, Mulder held up his hands as if warding him off. Mulder said, "No, no, Alex. I can't handle this. Skinner, take care of him. I have to think. I have to get out of here." Mulder already had his hand on the doorknob and he opened it before all his words were out. 

"You don't even have a car," I pointed out. 

"I know how to call a taxi," Mulder said. "Let me go. Right now I want to beat the hell out of Alex and I know that's not right. We'll talk when I've decided what to do." 

I stopped Alex as Mulder slammed out the door. "No," I said. "Let him leave." 

Alex walked out of the room. I heard noises; he was throwing up. I waited but he didn't come back. 

Walking into the bathroom, I found Alex running water in the sink, washing his mouth. 

"How do you feel?" I asked. 

"How do you expect I feel?" Alex said. "I'm in love with him. I fucked it up royally and I've also given you every reason to fire my ass." 

"Mulder will get over it," I said. "He got over it with Scully." 

"Scully didn't work for Spender," Alex said. 

"Spender? That's our friend with the smoking habit?" I asked. 

"Yeah," Alex said. He turned off the water and walked toward the bedroom. I followed. 

I found Alex sitting on his bed. "You need help undressing?" 

Alex looked at me blankly. I sighed and knelt to remove the boots. Despite my best intentions, I found myself with an erection by the time I tugged the sweat damp, warm leather from his legs. He helped me with the jacket and lifted his arms up so I could remove the blood spotted tee shirt. He slumped back on the bed. 

"I might as well have just let Angel keep my body," Alex said. "He would have had the balls to tell Spender where to shove it." 

"He would have," I agreed, "But as delightful as Angel appeared to have been, he didn't have ambition nor a desire to help out his fellow man...other than by delighting the hell out of a few of them. Why did you want to be an FBI agent, Alex?" 

"Like you said," Alex replied. "To help. I wanted to put away the crazies like Pulaski. When I was a kid, this little girl I used to play with disappeared one day. Everyone was looking. Didn't find her until next spring. Some lunatic got her. Raped her and buried her in a shallow grave. They never caught the guy. She was my best friend. I kept asking the cops why they couldn't catch him. They always said they were doing the best they could, but it wasn't good enough. I wanted to grow up to be the one who could catch them and put them where they would never hurt another person." 

"So your intentions were good," I pointed out. "Mulder loves you. He'll remember that if you give him some time. As for me firing you, you show me that you're not reporting to Spender and I'll do my damn best to protect you." 

"Mulder won't understand," Alex said, curling into a ball. "He's like Angel. No one could tell him what to do either." 

There was nothing I could say. Either Mulder would bend or he wouldn't. I stroked Alex's hair gently, wishing I didn't want him...either that or that I saw him first. 

"Sleep with me," Alex begged. "Be with me. I can't stand being alone." 

"I can't let you sleep long," I said. "The concussion..." 

"Then just hold me," Alex said. 

I tossed my wilted jacket and tie aside. I kept the rest of my clothing on except for shoes and belt, thinking it would serve as a psychological barrier. Right. Having him naked in my arms as I lay in my white shirt and dress trousers made it worse. It was too much like certain fantasies I entertained. 

I went to sleep with his warm skin next to mine. I would never, ever, smell leather again without thinking of this. 

Despite my uneasy feelings, I went out. When I woke up, Alex had my cock in his mouth. I should have stopped him. Should have been angry since, regardless of my arousal, I hadn't said yes. 

Sometimes propriety can't out shout need. I needed. I wanted. 

My hand found his thick silken hair and I buried my fingers deep in it. I arched up, not to push him away, but to see him with his sweet young mouth stretched around my cock. 

Guilt whipped through me every time I let it, but the pleasure outweighed it. Alex purred with me his throat. His tongue did things to me illegal in at least nineteen states. 

I shouted when I came. He didn't take his mouth away. I could feel his throat muscles move on me, swallowing my essence. His eyes glowed as he gazed at me. 

Picking him up after I recovered, I didn't bother with anything but the essentials. His cock was already weeping for my attention. My tongue swirled over the crown, probed beneath as he gasped and lifted his ass off the bed eagerly. I took my mouth away long enough to wet my finger. When I went back to his cock, I moved my finger inside him, fucking him with it. It was too much for him. He arched as if he meant to fly and he came in my mouth. Risky business, swallowing. I did it anyway. 

A while later, I got up and warmed a washcloth after cleaning myself. Alex let me wash him then held out his arms again. 

"We shouldn't have done this," I said. 

"Mulder would have done the same thing," Alex said. "He wants you. I know it." 

"Alex..." I said, wanting to see why he thought so, but he was either asleep or feigning it so well that I couldn't wake him. 

I set my mental clock and went back to sleep. Sex always had that effect on me. Gelled my brain cells to happy vacuity. 

When I woke up, Alex was gone. So were the leathers. He had left a note. Someone had left a note. I say someone because I knew Alex's handwriting well and this wasn't it. He didn't go for all the flourishes and he could spell better too. 

"Gone after the smoking bastard. Tell Mulder Ive gone to quite," the note said. I knew Alex could punctuate and was careful about his spelling. I had mentioned that to him when I went over his reports. It was amazing how many agents had finished college without picking up either skill. 

Shit. I called Mulder. He answered. I said, "Alex slipped away while I was asleep. Only, it's not Alex. I think it was Angel. The note said he's gone to quit." 

"The Smoking Man will kill him," Mulder said. 

No shit, Mulder, I thought. I said, "Just in case, check around for him. Maybe he went to see his mother, a lover first." 

"Right," Mulder said. "Angel must have been pretty single minded. He didn't waste time the last time other then letting Alex distract him." 

"But this time, he doesn't have his magic bike to aid him," I said. I looked around for my keys and groaned, "He does have my car." 

"I'll pick you up," Mulder said. "I have Alex's keys." 

"Yeah," I replied. "I'm going to see if I can find out where the Smoking Man lives." 

"How you going to do that?" Mulder asked, suspiciously. 

"I've had a friend working on it," I admitted. "He's pretty good. He may have found something by now." 

OooOooO 

The nice thing about Xavier is that even it's two AM, chances were that he wasn't asleep. I said, "Xavier, now I really need that information." 

"About Krycek?" Xavier asked. He sounded out of breath. 

"No, the other man," I said. "His name is Spender." 

"Yeah, found that out," Xavier said. "Not a nice character. I was going to give you a call anyway. Give you what I know before I disappeared for a while." 

"Why are you disappearing?" I asked. "Is he that dangerous?" 

"Yeah, that and I met the man of my dreams...rich, good looking, interested in technology and fucking, rich," Xavier said. "Going to go be a toy boy for a while." 

"You're kidding," I said, but I didn't think he was. Xavier was like that. It was why we didn't have a more serious relationship. 

"Nope, and this time," Xavier said, "It just might be love." 

My heart fell even though I found I was hoping that Alex might be part of my life. I was willing to share him with Mulder. For that matter, I was willing to share Mulder with him if I could arrange that. 

"I'll miss you," I said. 

"Yeah, me too," Xavier said. "Anyway, here's your address, 2607 Massachusetts Avenue, apartment 245. Good luck, Walter, be careful." 

OooOooO 

By the time I got there, Walter had Spender's address. I wasn't going to ask him any questions...not even why I smelled my lover on him. 

I thought if Angel was wearingAlex's body that he would have pulled something like that...getting Walter to fuck him or suck him. Angel didn't believe in missing anything good...and Walter's body was more than good; it was great. 

I could tell Walter was feeling guilty and I wanted his mind on what we were doing. I grabbed him, kissed him, and said, "You can make it up to me later. I want Alex back even if I have to share him...as long as it's just with you." 

Walter turned scarlet, but he settled down, checking his Glock. He nodded at me as I followed suit. 

"You think we're going to have to fight our way in?" I asked. 

"Who knows," Walter said. "I just know that man is incredibly dangerous." 

OooOooO 

The apartment building was incredibly ordinary. I felt disappointed. A man like Spender should live in some evil mansion or maybe in a futuristic fortress. Instead he resided in this ordinary building with his address number in black plastic a little askew on the veneer of the door. 

Lacking ideas of what else to do, I finally agreed to Walter's suggestion and just knocked. 

A Hispanic man answered the door. He had reptilian eyes, a face like a pit viper. "Yeah?" 

"We're here to see Spender," I said. 

An oily voice said, "Let them in, Luis, I've been expecting them." 

You know, Angel really wasn't good at this stuff. 

Angel sat next to Spender on the couch. A gun was at his head. He looked disheveled. 

"I want Alex back," I said. Walter's solid presence behind me was reassuring. 

"Since he has proven to be rebellious and untrustworthy," Spender said. "I could consider that. It is time for you to grow up, Mr. Mulder. Are you ready to bargain?" 

"He won't work for you," Mulder said. "He came here to quit." 

"Which was very foolish of him. What does he think this is? Mary Kay? You don't quit the project?" Spender said in his slimy voice. 

"I've heard it's hard to get of Mary Kay too," I remarked, just to see Spender's eyes narrow in contempt. 

"What good will it do for you to hurt him? I know about him. Walter knows about him. Just let him go," I said. 

"Even so poor an agent as Mr. Krycek can serve as an example to my other employees to keep their minds on business. I don't relish operatives who fail to follow directions. There are ways to make sure one who does has an end so prolonged and painful that his rebellion isn't repeated," Spender said. "I don't mean to be overly dramatic and much as it pains me to mar a work of art such as dear Alex..." 

"What do you want me to do?" I asked. 

"Good, Mister Mulder, perhaps Alex will prove more useful than I thought," Spender said. 

"You bastard, Mulder's not like that," Alex spat out. 

Spender slapped Alex hard. Alex surged forward off the couch to defend himself and two guns clicked ominously. "Calm down, Alex, Mulder," Walter said, restraining me. 

I wanted to fight free and bash Spender's face in, but Spender's gun was at Alex's temple. Spender looked at me with a smile on his lips. 

"Just one twitch of a muscle and Alex is no more," Spender said. 

Slumping back against Walter, I shook my head and said, "You win. Whatever you want; just let us walk out of here with Alex." 

This wasn't me. I didn't know how to compromise. That was for lesser men. I had never let anyone close but Scully and I had sometimes wondered if I shouldn't push her away so that she would be safe. I hadn't pushed Alex away. I had pursued him, drawn him in, seduced him. I was the reason he was sitting there with a gun at his head. 

"Mr. Skinner? Are you also in agreement?" Spender said. "I could ask your motivation, but I suppose it's the same as Mulder's." 

"I agree," Skinner said. "as long as any of my agents aren't hurt." 

"All I ask is that Mulder cease to probe matters that do not concern him," Spender said. "If he cooperates, I might see that his X-Files reopen. There are still interesting cases that don't intrude on my business." 

"It doesn't mean that someone else won't follow the truth," I said. 

"Ah, but will they have your unique intelligence and your open mind to marvels? I think not," Spender said, almost sounding as if he was proud of me. 

"Alex, you are free to go with Mr. Mulder and Mr. Skinner," Spender said. "Just remember, if any of you come after me or talk about what little you know, you will only be the first to suffer. Mr. Mulder, Mr. Skinner, and even Ms. Scully will also pay. Understood?" 

Alex nodded and walked into my arms. Walter and I walked back toward the door. I felt as if part of me was dying, but I saw no other way out. 

We stepped over the threshold and Alex stumbled, went suddenly limp, bumping into Cardinal. 

"Puta," Cardinal snarled. Then he looked sick and strange. I guess he freaked out at Alex's touch because he was a real homophobe. 

OooOooO  
"Angel?" I asked, when we were safely out of the building. 

"It's just me," Alex said, "I'm Alex. Angel's gone." 

Hauling Alex into my arms, I said, "Junior, that was the damn dumbest stunt you ever pulled. Couldn't you have stopped Angel?" 

"I didn't care," Alex said. "I didn't want to stop him. I wanted out and Angel had the balls to tell Spender that it was over." 

"He might have killed you instead of waiting to see if we came to reclaim you." I said. 

"He didn't," Alex said. "Besides, Spender knows you. He knows Walter," Alex said. 

I could smell Walter on him now. It should have pissed me off, but instead it smelled right, Alex, Walter, and myself. 

"I'll drop you two off," Walter said. 

"You're already compromised," I said. "Might as well come all the way into the dark side, Walter. Alex's bed is big enough for three." 

"I..." Walter said. He turned around to look at us. "I shouldn't even think about it." 

"Stop thinking," Alex said. "You know what you want. Reach out. Reach out and take it. Take us." 

Oh my God, that voice... that sexy growl of a voice. I couldn't resist it. I guess Walter couldn't either. He said, "I must be insane, but since I just bargained away the rest of my integrity, I might as well enjoy the payment." 

OooOooO 

None of us had the energy to fuck. We kissed, touched, and comforted each other. Then we fell asleep in a tumble of arms and legs. 

We woke up to the sound of a cell phone beeping. It wasn't mine. I didn't recognize the tone. Walter mumbled something, reached for his glasses, and untangled himself. I amused myself getting a good daylight view of Walter's fabulous ass. Hell, I had sold my soul to the devil. I deserved a little r and r. 

Walter sat back down with his phone. His voice sounded frosty as he said, "I see. It looked like an accident. He fell asleep with a lit cigarette. What about...was anyone with him? Ah, died of smoke inhalation? Are there any further instructions? No, well, don't expect me to say I'm sorry. I'll see you later today. Let me know about the details." 

Walter picked up the edge of the sheet to clean his glasses. He said, "Spender's dead. So is Cardinal. Spender fell asleep with a cigarette still lit. I suppose it was bound to happen." 

"Angel," Alex said. 

"What?" I asked. 

"Angel," Alex said. "He left me last night when I brushed against Cardinal. I thought he had...you know...completed his work so he went onward, as they say." 

"But he might have traveled into Cardinal?" I asked. 

"That's what I think," Alex said. "From what I hear, Spender seldom is left unguarded. Too many enemies... Cardinal told me one time when Spender made me sit around and wait for him that one of the jobs of the body guard was to make sure that Spender's cigarettes were out. All Angel would have had to do is make sure Cardinal drank too much of the old man's whiskey. Luis couldn't handle his booze. I heard Spender say that one time." 

"Well, then I thank Angel with all of my heart," I said. "We're free." 

"It goes deeper and wider than Spender," Walter said, looking at Alex. 

"Yeah, I know it was some huge operation. He called it the Project. I don't know more. He didn't share information," Alex said. 

"Well, one down," I said. "The one who knew about you." 

"I hope that's true," Alex said. "In any event, I'm done with hiding and running. Angel taught me that. If someone tries to blackmail me again, I'm going to tell them to take a flying fuck. Nothing's worse risking losing the guy you love. Except maybe finding two of them." 

Walter smiled and reached over to kiss Alex. I waited my turn and we kissed too. It was a disappointment when Walter slapped our asses and said, "This will have to wait. It's a workday, gentlemen. Just because I'm sleeping with you doesn't meant that I expect any less of you. I believe there's evidence at Pulaski's house. Evidence needed to clear a man who has been falsely imprisoned. There's work to do, my loves." 

Well, so much for the idea of finding out if Walter was a top, bottom, or willing to trade back and forth. I had to kiss Alex once more before racing to be the first to use the shower. 

My foot hit something, those leathers... I stopped. 

I said, "First thing we are doing is cremating these leathers...next thing is I really have to buy you another set...one that isn't haunted." 

Now my cell phone rang. I couldn't find it until Alex traced it to my pants. They had fallen under the bed. 

It was the Lone Gunmen's number. I called back, went through the usual ritual of arguing about being taped, and then was allowed to speak to Frohike, the one who called me. 

"Hey, buddy, I have that information you want," Frohike said. 

"About Pulaski?" I asked. 

"Yeah, turns out that the guy's father wrote in his will that his son was not to interfere with the running of the business and he left some money to Angel DiBenedetto and the other employees. The bulk of his estate went to his son under the condition that he not fire Tinner or DiBenedetto." Frohike said. "He had managed to accumulate a good chunk of change by inventing some motorcycle part and selling the patent. It was not the kind of money that his son would risk throwing away, but Pulaski belonged to every anti-gay hate group on the net. So he would have been mad enough to kill at the idea of not being able to fire a gay employee." 

"So he might have killed the other two victims to cover Angel DiBenedetto's murder," I said. 

"That's what the guys and I think," Frohike said. 

"Thanks, Frohike," I said. 

"De nada," Frohike said. "although you could put in a good word with Ms. Scully for me. Hope never dies." 

"I will do that," I said. "Talk to you later." 

After I ended the call, I told Walter and Alex what Frohike had said. 

"So Pulaski may not have killed those first victims?" Alex asked. 

"I don't know," I said. "But I hope we can find something when we search Pulaski's house to tell us. It would be nice to know we solved the old case with the new." 

"Mulder, should I..." Alex said. "Do you think Angel's mother should know what happened?" 

"Just that she has had her revenge," I said. "We can tell her we know Pulaski killed her son and that he's dead now. I don't think she would want to think that her son's spirit couldn't rest." 

"I think he can rest now," Alex said. "I feel that he has gone now. He helped me get free of Spender to thank me for the use of my body. I know that." 

"I hope that's true," I said, hugging Alex. "Angel may have had his points, but the next time I make love to your body, I want to know it's you." 

"Can't wait," Alex said, sounding as sexy as he had when he was possessed. He grinned at me when I frowned at him, worried. "Mulder, it's me," he said, making me smile back. 

"But I'm still buying another Indian," Alex said as he scooted into the shower ahead of me. 

"I'll buy you the leathers," I said. "One hundred percent ghost free leathers." 

Walter and I were left facing each other. He leaned close to me and said," I ride too, Mulder, and I have leathers already." 

I couldn't wait to see that. It was a damn fine morning. A great start to what I suspected was going to be a happy ever after life. 

About time! 

The end   
  

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